


Ladybug's Gambit

by tptplayer5701



Series: "Mind Games"-verse [22]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bossbug, Chess Metaphors, F/M, Female Friendship, Fox Alya Césaire | Rena Rouge, Friendship, Horse Max Kanté | Pegasus, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kwami & Miraculous Lore, Magic, Miraculous Holder Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Miraculous Holder Rose Lavillant, Mystery, New Miraculous, New Miraculous Holders, Pig Miraculous, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Rooster Miraculous, Tiger Juleka Couffaine, Turtle Nino Lahiffe | Carapace, Villain PoV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tptplayer5701/pseuds/tptplayer5701
Summary: A "Mind Games"-verse story:Marinette giggled and turned to see Adrien slowly making his way back toward them, Ladybug and Cat Noir in tow. Marinette raised her hand to wave, but as she did so, Miss Pinky gasped and tackled her to the ground. The tree on the far side of the garden lit up like a match. A shadow flew over their heads and landed in the middle of the secret garden, shaking the ground with the force of an earthquake.The Heroes of Paris are reeling after the theft of the Bee Miraculous. Ladybug comes up with her most audacious plan yet to draw out their enemies and force a confrontation with the dreaded Night Bat and his "master," Lynchpin.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Juleka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Juleka Couffaine & Rose Lavillant, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Rose Lavillant
Series: "Mind Games"-verse [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666807
Comments: 38
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

“We would like to thank you all for coming to the grand unveiling of the Heroes of Paris Victory Garden, graciously funded by the Agreste Family Akuma Victims Fund!”

There was a smattering of applause from the small crowd standing on the sidewalk staring at the barren plot of ground in question. Marinette, standing next to Adrien on the platform they had put up for the occasion, carefully kept her eyes on Adrien, who was wearing his best model smile. They had decided to put the “Victory Garden” in a lower-income area of town which had been hit especially hard by constant Akuma attacks. The lot itself had been vacant since before Hawk Moth began his reign of terror; no one could really remember when the old house was torn down, and the owners had been unable to sell it before Hawk Moth’s defeat. Even after his defeat the market was so depressed that it hadn’t sold. Last week Adrien had contacted them to offer close to double the market value, and the owners had been more than willing to accept the offer to be rid of it. In the week since they purchased the property, the Heroes of Paris had steadily removed the years of detritus that had built up, clearing the ground for today’s demonstration.

To one side of the platform they had set up a table with some of Agreste’s Heroes of Paris shirts, as well as a couple of new pieces Marinette had designed specifically for this event. Adrien was wearing one of them, a new polo incorporating some of the flowers they planned to plant in the garden, formed into the shape of a wreath. Marinette remembered to smile demurely, trying to make herself appear every bit the “high society darling” that the fashion press had dubbed her in the last month.

 _It’s funny_ , she reflected. _Before that press conference, almost no one knew my name; since then, we’ve had to be careful leaving_ my _house as Ladybug and Cat Noir!_

Hopefully, _this_ press event would solve that problem once and for all.

Marinette stole a glance at the representatives of the Heroes of Paris arrayed behind herself and Adrien on the stage. The Owl, as usual, seemed to be thrilled to receive so much attention and be included as a part of the team. Miss Pinky was almost jumping up and down from excitement, her fake pink ears flopping in her blonde hair. This was her first major public appearance – bystanders had only managed a couple blurry photos of her during the madness surrounding the zoo attack – and a few people were looking at her with some curiosity. Marinette noticed one little girl wearing a pink-and-white Miss Pinky shirt who was giggling happily and pointing at the fake snout covering Miss Pinky’s natural nose. In between the Owl and Miss Pinky stood Ladybug and Cat Noir.

Alya stood in the front row of the small press contingent, her phone up to record the proceedings. She gave them a thumbs-up, though Marinette could see a hint of strain on her face. Marinette nudged Adrien to move a little faster.

“As much as I’m sure you would all like to hear my voice, I think what everyone really wants to see is this garden… which isn’t here yet.” Adrien chuckled ingratiatingly. “So without further ado, I should welcome forward one of the newest members of the Heroes of Paris: Miss Pinky!” Adrien waved to her, and Miss Pinky jumped over their heads and off the platform in a single leap, flipping in midair before she landed. A handful of those present clapped – Marinette wasn’t too surprised by the lukewarm reception; Rose had only been a Hero for less than two months, after all!

Miss Pinky spun her jiuchidingpa over her head, shouted, “Cornucopia,” and slammed the rake head into the ground directly over the starting mark she had measured out earlier. She raced around the abandoned lot, working quickly, dragging the jiuchidingpa behind her and leaving behind nine deep furrows. The plants began to sprout almost at once: nine straight rows of flowers along the outside border of the lot and beside the paved paths forming the four distinct quadrants of the garden, as well as around the small square directly in the middle of the lot. In two of the quadrants she planted vegetables, berries in the third, and flowering bushes in the final. The center square she planted with a small “secret garden” of hedgerows around a couple bushes and a picnic table they had placed earlier. Finally, she twisted her rake head to produce a circle in one corner, from the center of which a small tree sprouted and almost immediately grew large enough to shade the bench in that corner. An appreciable murmur ran through the crowd as she worked; the applause when she replaced her jiuchidingpa on her back and jumped back onto the platform was far more enthusiastic than when she had begun.

Marinette applauded along with the crowd and smiled excitedly as a rosebush grew to full maturity before her eyes. She had watched Cornucopia at work before – Tikki and Daizzi had both agreed that Ladybug was the ideal hero to help Rose hone her ability over the last week in preparation for this demonstration. But every time, she was struck by just how _pure_ Cornucopia’s magic could be. She remembered Daizzi’s warning, of course: unbridled Generosity could be just as dangerous and overwhelming as rampant Creation! But what could be more pure than watching enough food to feed an entire arrondissement spring from the ground in a matter of minutes? Or watching a rosebush come to full bloom in the space of a breath?

Marinette shook herself from her reverie when Adrien intertwined his fingers with hers, stepped off the platform, and gently tugged her hand to follow. She climbed down, squeezed his hand, and led the way down the path into the garden, stopping in front of a lilac bush and bending down to inhale the aroma. Adrien plucked a red rose from the bush next to the lilac, carefully removed all the thorns, and stuck it behind her ear.

“A pretty flower for my pretty lady?” he asked, smiling. “You know, this was a brilliant idea!”

“Why thank you, Gorgeous!” Marinette giggled, kissing him on the check. She held the pose a moment longer when Adrien quirked an eyebrow, signaling her that a photographer was taking their picture. “I only wish we’d thought to do this last summer!”

“It would have been nice to have _something_ positive come out of Father’s arrest,” Adrien agreed with a grin, though Marinette didn’t miss the troubled look that flashed past his eyes. “Although we wouldn’t have had Miss Pinky to do it then. Or the Charity yet to buy the lot.”

Marinette hummed and rested her head on his shoulder as Alya ran up to them, positively beaming from excitement. She held out her camera to show them the picture she had just taken. Marinette grinned: leave it to Alya to take a cute picture of her and Adrien!

“Hey guys!” Alya called, giving Marinette a gentle hug. She squealed. “Can you believe the Heroes did this? It’s so awesome! I just _have_ to get an interview with Ladybug and Cat Noir for the Ladyblog!” Before Marinette could get another word in, Alya raced off, waving to where the four Heroes were posing for photographs. A handful of children had climbed up on the stage, and Miss Pinky had a pair of twin girls sitting on her shoulders while a woman who was probably their mother took a picture of them. Ladybug was holding a baby in her arms while Cat Noir watched them. When Alya waved, Ladybug handed the baby back to his mother and took Cat Noir’s hand, and they both jumped from the stage together. Alya led them off to a spot next to the berry bushes and held up her phone.

The Owl, meanwhile, had left the stage to mingle with the crowd. He was surrounded by kids wearing T-shirts bearing the logos of the Heroes of Paris – one even wore an Owl hoodie. Marinette stifled a giggle at watching their former collège principal strike poses with a group of eight-year-olds, several of whom were holding the toy Owlets he had requested from Pegasus. Her phone chimed: sure enough, the Owl’s photos were already getting uploaded to Instagram!

Miss Pinky, having just recharged, raced through the garden toward Adrien and Marinette. “If it isn’t the hero of the hour!” Adrien called, throwing an arm around her shoulders in a gentle hug. He looked past her and smiled, though Marinette could see hints of strain in the corners of his mouth. “Unfortunately, it looks like the press is looking for an interview… excuse me.” With that he left, made his way through the garden, and approached Nadja Chamack, who already had her camera and microphone ready. Beside her, Manon was trying to taste every berry in the garden.

“The joys of running a fashion house _and_ a charity, huh?” Miss Pinky observed, stifling a laugh. “I really don’t envy him that!”

Marinette hummed in agreement. “That is not quite what I was expecting from all of this, either,” she admitted. “Of course,” she added, “I’m sure they will all want an interview with you as soon as they’re finished with Adrien. After all, _you_ ’re the hero who just made an entire garden sprout from nothing!”

“Perhaps,” Miss Pinky conceded. She smirked. “I did have some help, though. Ladybug’s the one who taught me how to use this power so well.”

Marinette smiled mischievously. “Would you say that she taught you everything you know?” she asked innocently. “That you wouldn’t be half the hero you are now if it weren’t for Ladybug?”

Miss Pinky giggled. “Definitely,” she agreed, nodding earnestly. “However,” she added slowly, giving Marinette an impish look, “I would also say that Ladybug has been awfully stingy in letting me use my ability. I can _still_ count on one hand the number of times she really allowed me to let loose with my power like this!”

Marinette hummed pensively. “That’s not fair,” she told her. “Maybe Ladybug _should_ let you do this more often!”

Miss Pinky stared at her in surprise. “Do you think she would?”

“I think you’ve earned that,” Marinette agreed, nodding judiciously.

“That would be so amazing!” Miss Pinky squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands in excitement. “Why, if I had _my_ way, I would cover the _city_ in flowers!”

Marinette put a hand on Miss Pinky’s shoulder. “Okay, maybe we _shouldn’t_ let you do this that often!”

“Aw!” Miss Pinky pouted. “Maybe a _little_ more often?” she asked hopefully.

“Maybe,” Marinette agreed. “But nothing too easy to trace back to yourself. And not _that_ often. Maybe pick a spot in a different Arrondissement whenever you are on patrol.”

Miss Pinky folded her arms and huffed. “Fine,” she grumbled. “You’re no fun.”

Marinette giggled. “I just don’t want to find the lycée covered in impenetrable vines on the day of finals. Or the Eiffel Tower dwarfed by giant sequoias. Or your apartment building roof caved in because you tried growing an entire vegetable garden on the roof!”

“… I swear I only tried that once…”

Marinette giggled and turned to see Adrien slowly making his way back toward them, Ladybug and Cat Noir in tow. Marinette raised her hand to wave, but as she did so, Miss Pinky gasped and tackled her to the ground. The tree on the far side of the garden lit up like a match. A shadow flew over their heads and landed in the middle of the secret garden, shaking the ground with the force of an earthquake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, since the end of “Girls’ Day Out,” all of the Heroes (including Miss Pinky and the Owl) know Adrien and Marinette’s identities.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the questions do get answered… but not in this chapter. There are a handful of flashback chapters; everything not labeled as such is set in the present day. There are also a lot of cliffhangers.

**One Week Earlier**

Alya paced the small space within her Headquarters alcove, reached the wall, turned on her heel, and took another ten paces to cross the same distance. The coffee mug she held in her hand trembled slightly, and the level of caffeine she had been drinking recently was starting to give her a headache. If she wasn’t careful, Sabrina might notice that her coffee stash was disappearing much faster than normal. Of course, Sabrina wasn’t the one who got their teammate abducted…

“If you keep that up, you’ll wear a track in the ground.”

Alya nearly hit her head on the rock ceiling at the sudden noise from the alcove entrance. She clutched her heart and whipped around to see who was there. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked sheepishly.

“Long enough to know that you really need to switch to decaf, girl!” Marinette smirked, walked over to Alya, and pulled the mug out of her limp hands. She swirled the lukewarm coffee around skeptically and poured it out on the grass just outside the alcove. “Seriously, how many of these have you had today?”

“Six? Seven? I don’t remember.” Alya shrugged and checked her watch. “Oh! It’s after midnight so I guess… two? It doesn’t matter. I think I might finally be on to something here! I’m telling you, Mar,” she insisted, eyes glinting with excitement, “we’ve tried everything we can to figure out what Lynchpin wants and what he’s going to do! He’s tried kidnapping all these people, but as far as I can tell he isn’t interested in ransoms. This kid here” she pointed to a picture on the wall “was kidnapped and held for two weeks, and as far as I know, Lynchpin just… let the kid go. Then there was this jewelry store thing last week. The bank heist in Colombes last month. And there are these missing miraculous and those Dark Acolytes you saw the other week. I’ve finally put it all together! Lynchpin is trying to form an alliance with the Yakuza and the Russian Mafia to take over the world!!!” She pointed to a section of her diagram. “He kidnapped the daughter of a Japanese movie producer to force him to make this movie painting the Russians in a positive light so the Russians would team up with him to–”

“Girl, when’s the last time you _slept???_ ”

“Well, Nino did eventually drag her back home to bed around midnight yesterday,” Trixx observed, poking his head out from behind one of the displays on the wall and watching Alya with amusement. “Of course, I don’t think that can be considered ‘sleeping,’ and she was up and pacing again the moment he went home, so…” The Kwami shrugged and stroked his chin. “At a guess, the last time she slept _well_ was somewhere around… two weeks ago?”

“Traitor,” Alya muttered under her breath. Trixx grinned impishly.

Marinette stared at Alya, her jaw hanging open in shock. She turned and glared at the Kwami. “And you didn’t say anything?”

He shrugged. “You never asked and it never came up. I figured you were all on edge after…” His ears drooped.

Tikki fluttered off Marinette’s shoulder, flew over to Trixx, and put a paw on his shoulder. “I know,” she squeaked, gently nudging him out of the alcove and giving their holders some privacy. “We miss her, too.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for this,” Marinette said after the Kwamis were gone, wrapping her arms around Alya in a hug. “You got Chloe back. She’s safe now. And you four kept the other Heroes together through that week while Adrien and I were gone.”

Alya covered her face with her hands. “I just – _I_ was the one who had that press conference idea. _I_ was the one directing everything. So _I_ was the one who let Chloe get kidnapped.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Alya frowned in confusion. “‘No’? But–”

“No ‘buts’,” Marinette insisted, holding her by both shoulders and staring into her face so intently Alya had to blink. “You weren’t the only one who came up with the plan. You weren’t the only one who should have been watching her. You didn’t ‘let’ Chloe get kidnapped – since when do any of us ‘let’ Chloe do _anything_?”

Alya chuckled humorlessly. “I thought I had a handle on this Lynchpin business,” she explained glumly. “We could make his forces act, and we would be in place to _re_ act. But he caught us off-guard. He caught _me_ off-guard. And Chloe paid for it.”

“From what you _and_ Chloe said, it’s not like she couldn’t have gotten herself rescued sooner,” commented Marinette wryly. “She’s just too stubborn to give up. So,” she continued, eyeing Alya closely, “are you trying to run yourself into the ground in penance for this perceived ‘mistake’?”

Alya scoffed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Let’s see,” Marinette began, listing off on her fingers. “You’ve spent more time at Headquarters than your own apartment over the last two weeks. Sabrina says she’s been babysitting your sisters constantly for that same time span–”

“Not my fault the twins love her so much,” Alya muttered, folding her arms.

“You’ve been distracted at school – one of these days, Nino, Adrien, and I won’t be able to cover for you!” Marinette went on, as though Alya hadn’t spoken. “You’re shaking like a crack addict from all the coffee you’ve been drinking, and you’re spouting conspiracy theories that make _Lie-la_ ’s stories sound plausible! There is no way that you can be any good to anyone like this, girl! You need _sleep_!”

“But I _can’t_ sleep on this!” Alya retorted, throwing her hands up. “I need to solve this mystery!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you _don’t_ have to solve it all on your own?” Marinette asked, putting her hands on her hips and arching an eyebrow. “That you’re part of a _team_? That maybe the rest of your _team_ can help?”

Alya stared at her dumbly.

“Alya,” Marinette announced as formally as she could, drawing herself up to her full height, “as the _leader_ of your _team_ … I’m benching you. You need to take a shower, lay off the coffee, and _sleep_! One full day of rest, and then we can talk.” She whistled, and Turing flew into the alcove. “Now you’d better obey, because if you so much as mention the word ‘lynchpin,’ Turing is going to tase you and tie you to a bed!”

* * *

Alya woke up the next morning with Nino plastered against her back, and looked around the room in confusion. She wasn’t in her own bedroom – this room could probably fit _two_ of her bedroom! Then the previous night came rushing back. Nino had been waiting for them in the office when Marinette had practically dragged her to the elevator and back up to the mansion’s main level. Nino had looked mildly repentant when Marinette thanked him for telling her – Alya had attempted a halfhearted glare at her boyfriend, but it had fallen flat. Then Marinette had directed them to an empty bedroom, with Turing hovering along behind them. She’d showered, put on something from the last “Gabriel” line of nightwear (Adrien called that a “benefit” of owning a fashion house, but looking at the color scheme “Gabriel” had been experimenting with at the time, Alya wasn’t entirely sure), and slipped into bed. Lately she’d set a phone alarm to go off at six on Saturdays, but the amount of sunlight filtering through the curtains put the time a lot closer to noon than six.

Alya grabbed her glasses off the nightstand and glanced up at the ceiling: sure enough, the robot was still there, hovering near the overhead light, his “eye” fixed on her. A small shadow inside the light cover suggested that a Kwami was probably up there as well. Trixx and Wayzz, however, were both on the nightstand, curled up on the Kwami-sized pillows Marinette had mass-produced and placed in all the bedrooms.

“You can tell her I listened,” Alya announced, glancing up in time to watch Tikki phase through the light cover and drop down to hover directly in front of her. “No coffee today _and_ I’ll try to let _her_ do the worrying for now.”

“She was just concerned for you,” Tikki informed her, settling on Alya’s stomach. The Kwami nodded over at Nino, who was still asleep. “She wasn’t the only one.”

“I suppose I did go a little overboard,” Alya admitted, staring at her hands. “I just… I feel responsible.”

“Marinette may have gotten a little carried away after finding out what had happened,” Tikki told her. “Truth be told, she’s blaming herself for putting so much of the blame on you more than she blames you for blaming yourself!”

Alya hummed and shook her head. “We both know how she can get, I suppose.”

Tikki glanced over at Nino, who had begun to stir. “Once the two of you are ready, come down to the kitchen,” she said, taking off toward the door. “Marinette and Adrien already finished lunch, but there are leftovers in the fridge. They said to help yourselves.”

Alya nodded and lay back in the bed as Tikki flew out. She closed her eyes for a moment, but couldn’t fall back asleep. “Come on, babe,” she whispered, nudging Nino, “time to get up.”

“Didn’t the boss say you’re supposed to rest all day, babe?”

“She did,” Alya agreed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “But that doesn’t mean we have to sleep the whole time.”

* * *

Alya and Nino took an extended walk around Paris that afternoon. Then they watched a movie together with Adrien’s other guests. Alya hadn’t seen Marinette or Adrien all day, but Lise confided that they had spent most of the day down in Headquarters. After the movie, Nino practically dragged Alya back to the room Adrien had given them for the weekend.

After breakfast the next morning, finally feeling more like herself, Alya and Nino walked back to the office that Adrien had finally claimed for his own. A week before they had left for America, Adrien had followed through on his threat to Cataclysm every stick of furniture his father had left behind; since then Marinette had repainted the room a light yellow color and brought in entirely new furniture, giving the room a more inviting feel. Adrien had insisted on putting a giant portrait of Marinette on the wall behind his desk, opposite the one of his mother. Alya walked right up to the portrait of Emilie Agreste and pressed the combination to activate the Heroes’ elevator.

A quick ride later, the elevator plate slid into the ground and Alya led the way across the butterfly garden to the Heroes’ conference room. She pushed the door open to find Marinette and Adrien sitting at one end of the table, conversing quietly. Marinette looked up as the door opened, ran over, and hugged Alya tightly.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Alya mumbled, returning the hug.

“I’m sorry for not acting sooner,” Marinette whispered back. “You’re my best friend, and I can’t lose you.” She pulled back, held Alya’s shoulders, and looked carefully into her eyes. “You look worlds better today than yesterday!”

“It’s amazing the things _sleep_ can do for you that caffeine can’t!” replied Alya wryly, following Marinette around the table to her accustomed seat.

“It’s also amazing the things that a fresh perspective and give you,” Marinette agreed, smiling. “I think we’ve got something.

“I think we were on the right track in giving Lynchpin opportunities to act and then watching what he would do,” Marinette told her, acting the holographic display Max had installed on the conference table. “Unfortunately, at the press conference we put ourselves in too much of a _re_ actionary position. So we’re going to take that idea and tweak it a little.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is at least the third story where it’s come up in some way, but the reason Sabrina is Alya’s go-to last-minute babysitter is because in my head canon they live in the same apartment building, or at least pretty close to each other. Nothing in the show suggests that, but… why not?
> 
> Also, as of “Girls’ Day Out,” the Mansion has become the go-to spot for the Heroes to stay, with Hato Gozen, Lupa Gris, Ayilon (Lise), Pedro, and Lupa Gris’ son all staying there on a semi-permanent basis. So I guess now Adrien can also use all those extra rooms as a bed & breakfast for his friends when they try to burn themselves out?


	3. Chapter 3

Marinette covered her head with her hands and closed her eyes as a shower of dirt rained over her. Miss Pinky rolled off of her and rose smoothly to one knee in front of Marinette, jiuchidingpa held defensively in both hands. Marinette risked a glance toward the source of the disturbance to find the secret garden in the center of the lot in shambles, the bushes all thrown aside and torn up, and the bench nothing more than kindling. Mercifully the crowd that had gathered for the demonstration had mostly filtered away already, leaving the garden largely empty. The few civilians remaining had already fled across the street, hiding behind parked cars. A lasso shot out between two of the hedge bushes still standing around the secret garden, wrapped around the empty platform, and dragged it across what remained of the garden. Marinette groaned as Miss Pinky planted her jiuchidingpa head and deflected the platform to fly over them. _Not this guy._

Miss Pinky pulled Marinette back up to her feet and half-carried her out of the debris-strewn garden, toward Adrien, Ladybug, and Cat Noir. Adrien wrapped an arm protectively around Marinette the moment the two groups met.

“You and the Owl, keep Tyran-X busy!” Ladybug ordered Miss Pinky. “We’ll get them to safety and be back in a minute.”

Miss Pinky nodded and raced toward the center of the garden. She planted the head of her jiuchidingpa directly in front of the hedges and vaulted over the barrier, aiming her feet at the head just sticking up over the tops of the hedges. From the other direction the Owl, who had just handed a young boy to his mother, threw a pair of Owlets that arced around and struck Tyran-X from the front and back, moments before Miss Pinky’s feet connected with his face. Tyran-X fell backward under the onslaught, and he and Miss Pinky both disappeared from sight behind the bushes. The Owl charged through a gap in the bushes, cape trailing behind him, and disappeared.

Adrien and Marinette followed Ladybug and Cat Noir away from the garden and climbed into a van parked alongside the road. Adrien slammed the door shut, and the two heroes vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Some party you set up!” observed Anansi from the driver’s seat. “Pity about the party crasher…”

“Yeah…” Marinette agreed, grimacing. “Tikki, Spots on!”

A moment later, Ladybug and Cat Noir leapt out of the van, just before it raced away from the scene. Ladybug scanned the area. Tyran-X was back on his feet and had finally destroyed the last of the bushes in the secret garden. Miss Pinky held her jiuchidingpa up to block a punch from Tyran-X, who spun around her and dropped his lasso over her head. She brought up the jiuchidingpa without a moment to spare, and the loop tightened around the rake handle before it came down around her neck. She tugged on the lasso, pulling Tyran-X off-balance. He loosened the lasso and withdrew it from around the rake handle. Miss Pinky stumbled backward, and Tyran-X charged. The Owl appeared behind Tyran-X and shot his grappling hook, looping it around the villain’s torso. Tyran-X strained against the rope, but the Owl braced himself against the last surviving bush.

On the other side of Tyran-X, Ladybug threw her yo-yo, looped it around the villain, and pulled it tight, trapping Tyran-X between herself and the Owl and pinning his arms to his sides. Miss Pinky dove on top of Tyran-X, knocked him to the ground, and pinned him with the handle of her jiuchidingpa across his throat. Ladybug nodded to Cat Noir, who advanced on him to remove his miraculous.

“You know,” Cat Noir observed, putting his knee on Tyran-X’s chest, “I was expecting this to be a challenge! But I guess that’s a _rap-_ tor!”

“You!” shouted Tyran-X, glaring at Cat Noir. He struggled desperately against the ropes binding him, straining to lift his head and spitting in Cat Noir’s face. “It’s all _your_ fault! You killed her!”

Cat Noir stared at him in confusion, his hand freezing centimeters from the dinosaur tooth necklace around Tyran-X’s neck. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, i- _din_ -iot! Who even are you?”

“You don’t remember?” Tyran-X clenched his fists and flexed. The ropes Ladybug and the Owl held strained. Miss Pinky shifted her position to kneel over his head, pulling the rake tighter under Tyran-X’s chin to pull his head back and keep his head still, exposing his necklace for Cat Noir. Even so restrained, Tyran-X still struggled against his captors, glaring up into Cat Noir’s eyes with unbridled rage. “My wife burned alive in her car, and you were there! You heroes play your games and run away, and innocent people get hurt!”

Ladybug furrowed her brow. She could see an equal measure of confusion on Cat Noir.

“She was driving home from Caen one night a couple weeks ago,” Tyran-X ground out, staring daggers at Cat Noir. “It was late, she was tired, and she stopped in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse to take a nap, no more than a kilometer from home. When she woke up, her car was hemmed in with bushes on all sides and there was smoke in the air. She called me in a panic. Then all of a sudden she was relieved. She said it was going to be okay: she saw a Hero. She saw _you_. She banged on the window when you jumped over her car, but you did nothing. She couldn’t get out, she couldn’t drive, she couldn’t do anything – _I_ couldn’t do anything but listen to my wife die!”

“No…” breathed Miss Pinky.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Cat Noir told him, shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t remember _anything_ like that.”

 _Of course not_ , Ladybug realized, eyes shooting wide open in realization. _Two weeks ago we were in America!_

“You _killed_ her, and you can’t even _remember_ her!?!”

Miss Pinky flinched. Her grip on the jiuchidingpa loosened. The pressure on his throat gone, Tyran-X whipped his head forward and head-butted Cat Noir, who tumbled backward, head flying back. Quick as lightning, Tyran-X bucked Cat Noir off his chest to land, panting on his back. Ladybug pulled her yo-yo tighter but could feel her feet slipping beneath her. On the other side of Tyran-X, the Owl’s face was full of surprise. Tyran-X flicked out his lasso, cracked it like a whip, and shouted, “Di-Nado!”

A small tornado sprouted near Tyran-X’s feet, whipping the wind around the park into a frenzy. Cat Noir, who still hadn’t stirred, was pulled from the ground, his limbs hanging limply below him. Ladybug released her yo-yo from around Tyran-X and dove for the ground, grabbing a clump of grass in a desperate bid to avoid getting sucked into the vortex, but the grass pulled out of the ground in her hands. She was pulled feet-first into the tornado and looped her yo-yo around the remains of the tree they had planted, only for the tree to pull out of the ground and be sucked into the tornado as well. As she spun around in the tornado, Ladybug searched for her teammates. The Owl had detached the grappling hook around Tyran-X and was flailing around in midair, trying to prevent his cape from tangling around his head. Miss Pinky, who had also been pulled into the tornado, was eerily still, frozen with a look of wide-eyed shock on her face. Cat Noir had been pulled higher into the tornado, but had finally recovered his senses. He met Ladybug’s eye and nodded.

Cat Noir twisted around in midair to avoid a bush, swung his staff, and batted the bush through the tornado directly at Tyran-X’s head. At the same moment, Ladybug spun the tree around herself and flung it into the eye of the tornado, where it also dropped on Tyran-X. Tyran-X dodged both projectiles but in doing so released the tornado. Cat Noir, already twenty meters in the air, extended his staff to the ground to slow his descent. The Owl shot his second grappling hook into the façade of the apartment building next to the garden and swung to the ground, avoiding splatting into the pavement by centimeters. Ladybug allowed herself a small sigh of relief on seeing them in control, but then realized that Miss Pinky still had shown no reaction. She threw her yo-yo around a telephone pole, pulled herself down to the ground, and landed in a crouch directly below Miss Pinky. Miss Pinky dropped to the ground directly on top of Ladybug and let out a rasping breath. Ladybug eased her off as best she could and rolled to her knees next to her. At the same moment, Cat Noir dropped to the ground between them and Tyran-X, feet planted and staff held defensively in front of himself.

Miss Pinky stared up at Ladybug wide-eyed, her hands pressed to her cheeks, an expression of horror on her face. Her mouth opened and closed, her chest shuddering. Ladybug placed one hand on Miss Pinky’s cheek. Without taking her eyes from Miss Pinky’s face, Ladybug checked the Owl in her peripheral vision, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet. All around them the new garden had been torn up and now resembled nothing more than a plowed field, all of the plants broken off and the dirt churned into mud. Tyran-X stood in the middle of the plot, twirling his lasso above his head. Ladybug, however, couldn’t worry about him; she had to trust Cat Noir to watch her back. Her attention was entirely on Miss Pinky. She grabbed her by both shoulders, staring into her eyes.

“Rose, come on!” Ladybug scream-whispered into her ear, shaking her slightly. “Come back to me!”

Miss Pinky took in a shuddering gasp and blinked twice. Ladybug sighed in relief as Miss Pinky took a deeper breath and moved her legs. She turned her head from side to side, closed her eyes, and slumped back into the ground. “I–I’ll be all right,” murmured Miss Pinky, trying to push herself up. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

“You need to lie still,” Ladybug told her firmly, putting a hand on her shoulder and pushing her back down. She stood up and spun her yo-yo as a shield. The Owl stumbled over to them, and she pointed at Miss Pinky and ordered him, “Watch her.” Satisfied, Ladybug advanced to where Cat Noir was squaring off against Tyran-X. “Lucky Charm!” A tube of red lip balm dropped into Ladybug’s hands.

“Thanks!” Cat Noir grabbed the lip balm, pulled off the cap, and rubbed it on his lips. “I was feeling a little _chat_ -ed after that tornado!”

Ladybug rolled her eyes, grabbed the cap out of his hand, and tossed it to land on the sidewalk to one side of Tyran-X. Cat Noir raised an eyebrow at her, planted the end of his staff in the dirt, and sprang into the air. Ladybug raced forward, dodged the lasso loop Tyran-X threw at her, and threw her yo-yo around his leg. He jerked his leg back, pulling her off-balance, a moment before Cat Noir landed right in front of him and kicked him in the stomach. Ladybug released her yo-yo, and Tyran-X stumbled backward. His foot landed on the lip balm cap and he tumbled backward. He somersaulted backward to his feet, took one look at them, and ran away from them down the street.

Cat Noir tossed the lip balm back to Ladybug, who threw it in the air and shouted “Miraculous Ladybug!” The magic swirled around the park, repairing all of the damage, before reaching Miss Pinky and dissipating. Cat Noir gave Ladybug a look, nodded, and took off after Tyran-X.

Miss Pinky pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. “Thanks, Ladybug,” she called, bracing herself with her jiuchidingpa. She took a couple steps after Tyran-X and Cat Noir.

Ladybug put out a hand to block her. “No, you don’t.” She shook her head. “After that, you need to rest.” She turned to the Owl. “Make sure she goes back to Rena Rouge, then see to the civilians. Cat Noir and I will handle Tyran-X.”

Ladybug took off at a dead sprint after Tyran-X, catching up with Cat Noir halfway down the block. She risked a glance behind them: sure enough, Miss Pinky was slowly making her way into a nearby alley, leaning almost imperceptibly on her jiuchidingpa as a crutch. The Owl was straightening his cowl and watching her go, though he himself was moving at an angle to her, toward the small crowd clustered on the other side of the street.

Cat Noir spared a glance for Ladybug when they were running abreast. “So, was this how you expected the plan to go, Milady?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ladybug shrugged. “Um… sorta?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incident referred to gets fully explained in the next chapter. However, it was in a previous story I published; does anyone remember which one?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, Alya knows everyone’s identities, but the three new heroes don’t know anyone’s identities except Ladybug and Cat Noir.

Rena Rouge relaxed into her chair in the command center they had set up in the basement of an apartment building across from the garden site. She sighed as the Akuma released from her miraculous and fluttered away once all her Mirages had disappeared. Geber and Bengalia leaned over her shoulders to watch the fight on the monitors.

“Good job setting up those cameras, Bengalia,” Rena Rouge commented, watching intently. “But what happened with that one? I thought we tested all of them before you placed them.”

“Well _sorry_ ,” retorted Bengalia, arching an eyebrow at her. “I put them up just fine. Next time, _you_ can be the one playing invisible and trying to set up surveillance cameras 15 meters off the ground while hanging onto a windowsill with one hand and trying to fit your toe into the space between two bricks!”

Tyran-X had just run into range of the furthest security camera, which showed nothing but static. Rena Rouge groaned. That camera would have shown which direction he went. Ladybug and Cat Noir raced after him and out of range of her cameras, when suddenly the door burst open. Rena Rouge spun around quick at lightning – Geber stumbled and almost fell to the ground at that. Miss Pinky tumbled through the door, her face ashen, an expression of shock and horror on her face. Rena Rouge rushed over and caught her before she fell. She eased her back against the wall next to the privacy screen and crouched in front of her.

“What happened, girl?” Rena Rouge asked, wide-eyed.

“I–I–” Miss Pinky stuttered, blinking hard.

“Did Miraculous Ladybug not work? Are you still hurt?”

Miss Pinky clamped her mouth shut and squeezed her eyes closed, shaking her head in distress. Her shoulders trembled as she fought back the urge to cry. Rena Rouge put her hands on Miss Pinky’s shoulders and squeezed. “Look at me! Girl, look at me. Are you injured?”

“It–it’s _my fault_!” she shrieked, eyes shooting wide open, staring up at Rena Rouge.

Rena Rouge furrowed her brow and cocked her head.

“Tyran-X… he said that his wife was killed when her car was trapped in a hedge maze that burned!” explained Miss Pinky, tears in her eyes. Her hands trembled. “She saw Cat Noir, but he didn’t save her…”

Rena Rouge’s heart stopped. Her mouth fell open in shock. “You mean…”

“I killed her!”

Rena Rouge tightened her grip on Miss Pinky’s shoulders and pulled her in close, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. “No, you didn’t,” she told her fiercely. Miss Pinky opened her mouth to reply, but Rena Rouge put up a finger to shush her. “No, listen. Not everything is on you. Yes, you grew the hedgerow. Yes, you were there when it happened. But I told you to do it. I created the image of Cat Noir and Ladybug that she mistook for the real thing. I wasn’t there at the time, but you were. You might have been able to save her if you’d known. But your hand wasn’t on the trigger. You did not kill her. Lynchpin did. Lynchpin is the one who sent in guys with flamethrowers!”

“She must have been so terrified,” whispered Miss Pinky, burying her face in her hands.

“Don’t go down that path, girl.” Rena Rouge put a finger under the other girl’s chin and forced her to meet her gaze. “It will only suck you in and lead to more heartbreak. We’re heroes. We can’t let our mistakes define us or break us.”

Bengalia knelt next to them and put a hand on Miss Pinky’s knee. “Here,” she said, holding out a soda bottle. “My friend always drinks one of these when she’s upset.”

Miss Pinky looked at the bottle and chuckled weakly. “Your friend has good taste.” She took a sip and frowned, staring at her knees.

Rena Rouge squeezed Miss Pinky’s shoulder. “Don’t let yourself get lost in the blame game,” she told her gently. “It’s your fault, it’s my fault, it’s Lynchpin’s fault – it’s everyone’s fault. There is more than enough blame to go around for something like this. Did you want this to happen?” Miss Pinky shook her head, lower lip trembling. “If you had known she was there, would you have done something differently? Would you have tried to save her?” Miss Pinky nodded, wide-eyed. “If you had found out, would you have used his grief to manipulate her husband?” Miss Pinky’s jaw dropped and she stuck her tongue out in disgust. “That’s what makes you a _hero_ , girl. And now there’s a man out there in pain, and there is a _villain_ who’s using this man’s wife’s death to manipulate him into doing terrible things. We can’t help his wife anymore. But _maybe_ you can help _him_.”

Miss Pinky nodded and leaned back against the wall. Eyes closed, she let out a slow breath. “You’re right. It’s just…” She sniffled and took another sip of her soda.

“I know.” Rena Rouge squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She hated watching Rose struggle through this. But she couldn’t lose sight of the job; not again. Too much was at stake. “Now, girl, I need you to focus,” she told Miss Pinky, drawing her eyes back. “Did that fight end too… easily… for you?”

Miss Pinky, eyes still closed, shrugged. “I guess? I mean, I was down, the Owl was winded, Ladybug was too focused on… me…” She buried her face in her hands in shame. “He could’ve kept going against Cat Noir, but he just… waited for him and Ladybug to be ready to resume. And then he just… ran off. Like he was _looking_ for an excuse to run.”

Rena Rouge nodded. “That’s what it looked like to me, too.” She turned to Geber. “You know what that means?”

Geber twirled his spur in over his head and slammed it into the ground. “Vigilance!” A circle of orange light spread out from the spur tip and expanded out through the room before passing through the walls. On the security monitors, Rena Rouge watched the circle pass through the restored garden and beyond in a matter of moments. She quickly lost sight of it as it expanded past the cameras, and found herself holding her breath. A moment later, her patience was rewarded when an orange beam shot through the feed from a couple of their cameras before it passed through the wall and connected with the spur tip.

Rena Rouge glanced at the monitors. “It’s not pointing in the direction Tyran-X went,” she noted. “Bengalia, you’re up.”

With a nod, Bengalia said, “In-Stripe-Tion,” and vanished instantly. A moment later, the outside door opened and shut by itself.

Rena Rouge returned to watching the monitor, shifting between camera feeds. “Hang on, that camera that’s out would have shown Tyran-X arriving _and_ leaving… but it was just fine when we set it up last night.” She leaned back in the chair. “Something about that doesn’t sit right…”

It always seemed as though Lynchpin was one step ahead of them. Max’s recreation of the events surrounding the press conference had shown the Animal Man arriving at the zoo _before_ the press conference started, but _after_ the Heroes were already in place. At the time, she hadn’t paid too much attention to it: the goal of the press conference had been to catch Lynchpin off-guard and put his people in motion. Now… Lynchpin’s people were leading Ladybug and Cat Noir somewhere specific – maybe to whatever Vigilance had located, but maybe not. Rena Rouge frowned. She was missing something big. It was like Lynchpin had a better angle on everything than they did…

 _“Angle”…_ Rena Rouge hit a couple keys to bring up a map of Paris on another computer screen. “Pegasus, Camera 4 is out of commission. Did anyone touch it between when we set it up and now?” she asked while plotting out locations on the map. She circled the Agreste Fashion building, the Zoo, the shopping center where Chloe was taken, the abandoned clinic where Chloe had been held, the garden…

Lynchpin was interested in _far_ too many locations for Rena Rouge’s comfort.

“Sometime last night the camera feed died very abruptly,” Pegasus reported. “The other cameras did not show anyone nearby when it happened. I apologize. There was a structure fire in the fifth arrondissement around that same time last night, and getting Ryoku there in time took priority.”

Rena Rouge nodded to herself. Plotting the exact location and direction of the camera on her map, she shifted to a 3-D view of all the buildings in the city. “That tracks… but would it even be _possible_ …” she muttered to herself. With another click she traced a ballistic trajectory from the camera. “Son of a bitch.” A number of different buildings would fit most of her criteria, but one _literally_ stood above the rest. Lynchpin – or someone – could see just about _everything_ from Montparnasse Tower.

“Geber,” Rena Rouge said, getting up from the chair, “watch the monitors. I’ve got to check on something. Mirage.” She blew a soft note on her flute and pointed the Mirage ball it created at her own chest.

A moment later, Rena Rouge slipped out of the command center, climbed to the apartment building’s roof, and raced across the rooftops toward Montparnasse Tower. This Lynchpin investigation had become an obsession for her – after her conversation with Marinette, Rena Rouge could fully admit that. It wasn’t even Chloe’s abduction that had led to this, although that hadn’t helped. No, it had started when her inaction allowed her best friends to be targeted by a conspiracy for which they were unprepared. After that happened, Rena Rouge had resolved to put all of her effort into untangling this web before Lynchpin could do something worse.

And then Lynchpin had done something worse.

Now Lynchpin had a team of miraculous users on his side, and one of them had joined Lynchpin’s team specifically _because_ of the Heroes’ mistake! The fight that led to his wife’s death – that was _Rena Rouge_ ’s plan from start to finish! Just like the press conference that got Chloe captured – _her_ plan! Every move she made, it seemed like Lynchpin or his agents had a countermove already set up to turn it to his own advantage.

Rena Rouge looked up at the imposing Montparnasse Tower in front of her. The second-tallest building in Paris. And not a single handhold to be found. She frowned. Obviously, Lynchpin would be on the top floor. _But how do I get up there?_ Wings would be helpful right about now. But she was already transformed, and Hato Gozen refused to even _try_ teaching them to conjure up her magic wings. She could de-transform and take the elevator, but that could take too long, and Lynchpin was probably watching the elevator. Instead, she dropped to the ground, slipped through the tower’s front door behind a group of visitors while still under the cover of her Mirage, careful not to let anyone disrupt the Mirage, and found the stairs. Traffic on the stairs was sparse, so she ran up the handrails, jumping from landing to landing through the middle of the stairwell.

When she reached the 58th floor, she eased the door open carefully and peeked around the corner to see that the coast was clear. The garden was due north of Montparnasse, so she made her way to that side of the building first. Lynchpin would have to be watching with binoculars or something similar, so Rena Rouge ignored the mass of cubicles, focusing instead on the offices and conference room. The man in the first office she checked was speaking on the phone and gesturing angrily at his computer. The next office was empty. The conference room at the center of that side of the floor had a privacy curtain covering the window. Cautiously, Rena Rouge pushed the door open.

She had a moment to take in the sight of a man lying flat on the conference table, a scoped rifle sitting next to him on a blanket, before she walked into an invisible barrier. It felt like electricity coursed through her body, and she fell to the floor with a muffled thud. The last thing she saw before unconsciousness claimed her was the man pushing himself up from the table and walking over to kneel in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incident Miss Pinky is referring to happened in [ “The Queen is Dead: Mission Logs,” Chapter 3 (“Cornucopia”)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791269/chapters/60047851) if you want to reread it. A benefit of working so far ahead is that I had planned this twist out before publishing that story.
> 
> The next chapter answers one of the cliffhangers left by this chapter, but not the other one. Fair warning: just about every chapter ends with a cliffhanger.


	5. Chapter 5

**Four Days Earlier**

No one ever looked inside the 58th-floor conference rooms at Montparnasse Tower, or gave their occupant more than a passing glance as he entered the building. He was polite, smiled exactly enough to blend into the crowd of other professionals who worked there, and had a talent for being completely forgettable. The man kept irregular hours, working much later some nights, or coming in long before the regular business rush in the morning – sometimes he would pull an all-nighter and not be seen again for a week or more. He rarely had visitors, and none of the other people working on the same floor ever received a straight answer of what he did or why the company he worked for had rented all four conference rooms on the building’s top floor. A few people had asked when the deal first went through, but eventually they gave up. The man was more than willing to let others use his conference rooms when they asked, so what was the loss?

Occasionally the man would stop to chat around the water cooler with the employees of the telecommunications company that rented the rest of the floor, but not often. Once someone had asked him about the unique tattoo that showed just below the sleeve of his dress shirt, of an anchor enclosed inside a double diamond. He had described summers fishing off his grandfather’s boat in the Mediterranean before noting the incoming storm front that might chase away the fish that weekend.

He would never tell them the real story behind his tattoo.

Étienne Martial spent most of his time sitting in one of the conference rooms and staring out the window through the spotter’s scope he carried in his briefcase. As a sniper, he had struck fear into the hearts of his enemies on three continents and received multiple commendations for bravery.

On one of his first assignments, he had parachuted in behind enemy lines and spent two weeks crawling into position, all to take a single shot, assassinating a Congolese warlord from more than three kilometers away. Before the bullet had struck, he had already released two more and killed both the warlord’s second-in-command and their radio array. By the time the rest of his squad had landed to mop up what remained of that particular paramilitary force, he had already crawled out of his perch and escaped, though it had taken another week of evading the shattered remnants of the warlord’s forces before the helicopter could come in and exfiltrate him. The warlord’s last surviving lieutenant, whom he’d captured as the helicopter was landing, had dubbed him “Le Tirreur.” The rest of his unit had liked the nickname, and it had stuck.

His superiors had considered him to be one of the greatest snipers in the French Special Operations Command… right up until his Captain framed him for drug smuggling. That had been the end of a promising military career.

All of the evidence was circumstantial. The court martial didn’t have enough evidence to convict, but he was still released from the service. It was while he was reeling from the blow of his dishonorable discharge that Étienne was approached by his old squad mate, Jean Levebvre, with a business proposition. Levebvre was putting together a crew, and he needed someone with eyes. One job turned into two, which turned into ten, until Étienne was in too deep to find a way out. He’d had no choice but to go on the run across Europe with Levebvre when the terrorist Hawk Moth had chased them from Paris, only to return after Hawk Moth’s defeat. And then Levebvre had gone to work for the Lynchpin. Étienne shook his head in disgust. They could have retired comfortably _before_ the fashion show job; hell, they could have retired without ever returning to Paris! But it was never enough for Levebvre. He’d returned to Paris, which meant the crew returned to Paris, which meant that Étienne returned to Paris. A few jobs blown by the Heroes of Paris later, and suddenly Levebvre was working for the Lynchpin. And so was Étienne.

And then Levebvre made a mistake, and Lynchpin contacted Étienne personally to order the hit. Étienne had shot his old squad mate, and now he worked for the Lynchpin directly.

Or at least he had. As of a week ago, he took his orders from Lynchpin’s new miraculous-wielding pet.

Étienne had grumbled at the new chain of command – soldiers don’t need fancy jewelry to carry out their orders – but he’d fallen into line. After all, soldiers don’t question their orders, either.

Étienne scanned the Paris skyline, looking for the telltale colorful streak that would indicate the Heroes of Paris were planning to get involved. This was, perhaps, the _least_ glamorous part of his new job. A flash of teal-green caught his eye. He didn’t see where it had originated, but he could track it back toward the Seine. Whoever it was, they were angling toward the northeast.

“Head’s up,” he reported, watching the hero’s approach. Mentally he cycled through his catalog of the known Heroes of Paris. “Viperion is on his way. Have you secured the package?”

Marin, the leader of his team on the ground, replied, “We are just getting her out of the safe house now. Can you stall him, Tirreur?”

Étienne flipped a switch on his radio. “Tyran-X, you’re up.”

As if on command, the Trocadéro erupted in a fountain of lava, billowing smoke into the air. Viperion appeared to hesitate at an intersection, caught between the destruction he could see at the Trocadéro and whatever report he’d heard of their kidnapping.

Étienne watched the hero’s head turn, looking in both directions. “Come on, kid,” he muttered. He could see indecision in the hero’s features. From the police scanner next to his head, Étienne could tell what he must be thinking. “You only heard about a _maybe_ kidnapping in progress; if you don’t act now, who knows what will happen to that pretty park and all the tourists and civilians?” The hero seemed to make up his mind and turned toward the Trocadéro. Étienne let out a breath. Then Viperion turned back to the kidnapping.

Étienne spun his scope to reexamine the Trocadéro. Already he could see no less than three of the Heroes arrayed against Tyran-X – the new Rooster hero, King Monkey, and… “Ladybug. Dammit,” Étienne muttered. “You could have picked a better target, Tyran-X,” he observed, keying his earpiece.

“Well _sorry_ ,” retorted Tyran-X. “Please, be sure to let me know next time where the Heroes are going to be!”

“If you want something done right…” Étienne grumbled. His eye firmly fixed on the back of Viperion’s head, he smoothly lifted his rifle and took careful aim through the open window. The subsonic round made hardly a sound beyond the click of the rifle’s action, and the building itself hid the muzzle flare from outside. No one inside the building ever bothered him, and the privacy screens were more than capable of blocking whatever they _might_ see. He replaced the rifle on its blanket without taking his eyes off the result of his shot. A transformer had exploded, sending a cascade of sparks into the street less than a block in front of Viperion. Étienne nodded in satisfaction as the hero stopped to rescue a family that had been walking below the electric pole when it blew. “You know, guy,” he muttered sardonically, “I wouldn’t have had to put anyone in danger if you just did what you were supposed to do.”

“One minute,” Marin reported.

“You have thirty seconds,” replied Étienne as Viperion carried a little girl behind a building. He scanned the rooftops again. “Put the girl in the first SUV, and send the second straight down Opera and right on Casanova. Take the girl to Alternate 3.”

The two SUVs split before Viperion had returned to the street, with one driving straight towards him before turning. He took the bait and chased that SUV, while the other, out of his sight, escaped north with their prisoner. Étienne ejected his spent casing and slipped it into a false pocket of his suit coat before breaking the rifle down. So intent was he on cleaning his rifle that he almost didn’t hear the chime indicating another call.

“Tirreur.”

“Turn on the radio,” said a too-familiar voice. Étienne had put his crosshairs on some of the worst of the worst. He had stared down drug dealers and warlords. Once he had been captured by a terrorist commander when his jump officer let him out directly over the terrorist camp by mistake. Even so, the Night Bat’s voice never failed to make his skin crawl.

Étienne obeyed and found the regular news station. “–Victory Garden to commemorate the defeat of Gabriel ‘Hawk Moth’ Agreste nine months ago. The event is being sponsored by the Agreste Family Akuma Victims’ Relief Fund, with the founder – who is also the son of the terrorist Hawk Moth – Adrien Agreste confirmed to be present with his fiancée. Also confirmed to be in attendance will be an unspecified number of the Heroes of Paris. The garden will include–” Étienne shut the radio off.

“So…”

“So what?” Étienne asked guardedly. The Lynchpin may be enamored with his pet flying rat, but that didn’t mean Étienne had to like him.

“Lynchpin is curious what we think about this,” Night Bat informed him. “What should we do with this information?”

“Tell him this is the most obvious trap the Heroes of Paris could have imagined.”

“Oh, of course this is a trap,” agreed Night Bat dismissively. “I don’t think he needs _us_ to tell him that.”

“So then what _does_ he need us for?”

“What do we do about this trap?”

Étienne scoffed. “Spring it, of course.”


	6. Chapter 6

Ladybug lost sight of Tyran-X as he rounded the corner two blocks in front of them. She grimaced, even as she put on an extra burst of speed. This could give him just enough time to disappear… or to recharge for the next round. She saw a flash of light from around the corner just before she turned into the street where Tyran-X had disappeared, Cat Noir right on her heels. Without a second to spare, she saw the lasso looped around two lampposts on opposite sides of the street, the rope pulled taut right at neck level. She ducked beneath the rope and looked up to find Tyran-X already prepared to attack. He picked up a car and hurled it at her with a grunt. Ladybug dove to the left as Cat Noir dove right. The car missed them, but it bounced off the lasso and deflected towards Cat Noir. Without a second’s hesitation, Ladybug threw her yo-yo, caught the car, and pulled it away from her partner to slam into the ground in the middle of the road.

“I suppose it would have been a _cat_ -astrophe if you’d missed, Milady,” Cat Noir joked, pushing himself to his feet.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and recalled her yo-yo. “Less punning and more punching, Kitty,” she retorted, allowing herself a small smile.

“As you wish!” Cat Noir dove and rolled around to flank Tyran-X to the right, Ladybug mirroring the move in the opposite direction.

Tyran-X’s eyes darted back and forth between the two heroes. He tugged his lasso back and spun it around himself, moving the loop up and down rapidly around him to form a barrier. “Come on!” he shouted heatedly. “You’re all high and mighty? Let’s see what you can do against me!”

In the fraction of a second that he was looking at neither of them, Ladybug charged Tyran-X, yo-yo held in one hand. At the same moment, Cat Noir charged from the opposite direction. Tyran-X’s eyes darted back to Ladybug and locked with hers, and he flicked his wrist, jumping out of the lasso loop and sending it towards her. Ladybug threw her yo-yo, deflected the lasso to one side, and dropped to the ground in a slide. She swung her legs, catching Tyran-X in the gut the moment before he landed, and knocked him tumbling backwards to the ground. He slammed down hard on his back, and Cat Noir was right there, kneeling over Tyran-X’s head holding his staff across Tyran-X’s throat with both hands.

Tyran-X let out an enraged roar and threw his feet over his head in a backward somersault, catching Cat Noir completely off-guard. Cat Noir yelped as Tyran-X’s feet slammed into his face. Tyran-X stumbled to his feet, a moment before Ladybug launched herself at his midsection. He gasped and fell over, but kicked her in the chest with both feet as she landed on top of him, sending her sprawling off of him. Ladybug landed on her back, rolled to her stomach, and was up again in an instant. Cat Noir raced over to her. Ladybug realized the danger an instant too late. “Wait–!”

Tyran-X threw his lasso and looped it around both heroes the moment Cat Noir was within an arm’s length of Ladybug. Ladybug gasped as Tyran-X pulled the lasso tight, trapping them face-to-face, and swung them up off their feet and into the air, only to slam them back to the road surface. Cat Noir wrapped his arms around her and twisted them around in midair so he could cushion the impact for her with his back. Ladybug flinched when they landed and Cat Noir grunted in shock.

They didn’t have long to recover from the blow, however. Tyran-X pulled them off the ground again, higher this time. Ladybug felt a moment of weightlessness at the apex of their swing, staring down past Cat Noir’s shoulder into the hate-filled eyes of Tyran-X. He leapt into the air and pulled the lasso taut to slam them into the ground once more.

Instead, Ladybug was surprised when their downward arc stopped abruptly with them suspended in midair. “I’ve got you, Milady,” Cat Noir whispered, grimacing with the exertion. He had wedged his staff, which was held between them inside the lasso loop, into the façades of the buildings on either side of the street, leaving them dangling like a spitted animal. Tyran-X pulled the lasso loop tighter, trying to dislodge them, but it only drove the staff further into the stonework of the two apartment buildings.

Tyran-X bellowed in frustration as he flicked his wrist to release them from the lasso. Cat Noir let go of Ladybug and retracted his staff, and the two heroes dropped back to the ground. Ladybug landed first, rolled to her feet, and had her yo-yo up in an instant. She threw it at Tyran-X to tie him up, but he casually batted it away with his lasso.

“Ladybug!” Bengalia reported over the communicator. “I found Night Bat! He–” Her audio cut off abruptly.

“Bengalia?” Ladybug called, her hand going to her earpiece on instinct. “Pegasus, what happened?”

Sensing her distraction, Tyran-X charged and pulled back to punch Ladybug in the chest. Cat Noir, however, appeared out of nowhere and batted him away with his staff. Tyran-X wheeled around and threw his lasso at Cat Noir, who smacked his lasso away and charged, bringing his staff down on Tyran-X’s head. Tyran-X spun his lasso as a shield, tightened it around the staff, redirected it to one side, and kicked Cat Noir in the chest. Cat Noir gasped in shock, lost his grip on the staff, and flew backward, but landed on his feet on the opposite side of the street from Ladybug.

Pegasus meanwhile reported to Ladybug, “Impératrice Pourpre says Bengalia is not in immediate danger, but Night Bat is standing over her. What should we do?”

Ladybug frowned and turned away from Tyran-X, who was fighting off a vicious attack from Cat Noir. “We can’t play all our cards just yet,” she decided. “Send me the location and have Impératrice Pourpre keep an eye on her just in case. I’ll take the others to help her.”

At that moment, Tyran-X shouted, “You can’t save everyone! Dino-Quake!” He stomped his foot and a seam in the ground opened up and shot directly toward an apartment building on the far side of the street from her. The earthquake disappeared beneath the building’s foundation, and the building shuddered before leaning in that direction.

Ladybug gasped: the building could fall into its neighbor and knock over an entire block of apartment buildings full of people! And she was too far away to stop the building’s collapse. But her partner was right there. “Cat!”

Cat Noir reached out toward his staff, which had landed on the opposite side of the street. The staff flew into his hand even as he shouted “Cataclysm!” He extended the Cataclysm-infused staff down the alleyway next to the collapsing building and brushed it along the base of the apartment building next to it. That building’s foundation crumbled as well and it began to collapse toward its neighbor. The two buildings slammed into each other in the exact center of the small alleyway between them, releasing a shower of dust and shingles where the roofs met. Nevertheless, the buildings remained upright.

“Dammit,” Ladybug muttered. Tyran-X was already spinning his lasso to send a tornado at the two distressed buildings. She took at hesitant step toward him, running calculations to counter his lasso with her yo-yo, even as the buildings’ doors opened and residents poured out into the street.

Cat Noir collapsed his staff and threw it at Tyran-X before he could summon the tornado, knocking him backward. Cat Noir glanced at Ladybug and caught the ricocheting staff blind. “I’ve got this!” he shouted. “You help the others!”

Ladybug nodded and turned away, but not without a last grimace at the destruction behind her. Juleka was in trouble, and she had to trust her partner to handle _this_ threat on his own. And unfortunately, she had already used Miraculous Ladybug once; she would have to recharge before using it to repair these buildings.

It only took Ladybug a couple minutes to return to the repaired garden. Geber and Miss Pinky were already waiting on the street for her with the Owl. They couldn’t slow down for the Owl to keep up with them, but there was something the Owl could still do. Maybe she didn’t have to leave Cat Noir entirely on his own against Tyran-X. “Go help Cat Noir,” she ordered the Owl without stopping.

“You can count on… the Owl! Hoo, hoo!” the Owl declared, taking off in the direction Ladybug had just come from, cape whipping in the wind behind him.

Ladybug didn’t slacken her pace, and the other two heroes fell in behind her, easily keeping pace with her breakneck speed. Ladybug glanced down at the display on her yo-yo and turned down a side street. As traffic picked up around them, she threw her yo-yo and caught it around a traffic light to pull herself up onto the rooftops. Behind her, Geber and Miss Pinky vaulted up side-by-side to join her. Geber looked exhilarated at the prospect of being involved again. Miss Pinky seemed to have recovered from her earlier shock, though her usual ebullient attitude was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with a determined set to her jaw and eyes. Ladybug frowned. Going into a fight against Night Bat on his own turf with two of her newest recruits while Cat Noir fought Tyran-X with only the Owl for backup… This wasn’t exactly what Ladybug had planned on for today… but this was how things had turned out. She let out a breath. _We planned for this_ , she reminded herself. _This time we are prepared._

“So what’s the plan, Ladybug?” asked Geber, his Mohawk blowing in the wind as they ran.

“At the moment? Get to Bengalia and see what we see,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m trying to keep the plan simple and the options open for now.” She hazarded a glance back at Miss Pinky, who still looked troubled. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You can hang back if you’re not up for this – it’s already been a busy afternoon for you.”

Miss Pinky nodded curtly. “I’m alright. Just a lot on my mind.”

Ladybug frowned. “We’ll talk after this is done,” she promised in her best no-nonsense tone. Checking her yo-yo screen, Ladybug saw that they were only a block from Bengalia’s location. She gestured for the others to be quiet and hang back while she approached. Looking down from the closest apartment building roof to Bengalia’s position, Ladybug could see her lying on her side on the grassy median in the middle of the street, her eyes screwed shut and her fists opening and closing in agitation. Night Bat stood over her with the tip of his sword casually resting against her throat. Ladybug’s eyes narrowed, even as Night Bat glanced up and caught her looking at him. He grinned maliciously, but made no move otherwise. Ladybug jumped off the roof, looped her yo-yo around a tree branch, swung around it and threw herself into the air, spinning into a tight back flip and landing in a crouch less than five meters in front of Night Bat.

“I knew you’d come for this one,” Night Bat observed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Predictable.”

Ladybug tightened her grip on her yo-yo to throw it. Before she could react, however, Night Bat jumped backward away from her, a moment before the ground around her erupted in explosions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time Cat Noir showed that ability to summon his staff was in “Running out of Time” [chapter 14](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611723/chapters/57281329). It’s something that all miraculous users would theoretically be able to do with enough practice and incentive. Well, not Bengalia, but only because her weapon can’t actually be removed!


	7. Chapter 7

**1200 Years Ago**

Vojnus stood on top of the ridge above his village, his neighbors arrayed behind him. In front of him, at the foot of the ridge, the invading Magyar raiders sat their horses in crisp ranks, backs ramrod straight, sunlight glinting off of their spears and battleaxes. Their chieftain stood up in the saddle on his black charger in front of his host. Vojnus frowned. Although the farmers who had come out with him to defend their homes had the advantage of favorable terrain – the only way for the raiders to reach the village was to ride straight up and over this ridge, through the single clearing they had cut through the dense forest along the slope – they were not soldiers. The Magyars carried swords and battleaxes and spears; the villagers had their farming tools. The Magyars looked to be no less than a thousand strong; the village could boast no more than 50 men to fight, ranging in age from only twelve up to sixty years old. And only one man in the village had a weapon of war, _or_ the experience to use it.

When the Magyars charged up the hill, the villagers would throw the stones they had collected and shoot with their hunting bows, and some of the projectiles would find their targets. Of those who were hit, some would even be killed. But when the Magyars reached the top of the hill – and that was a question of _when_ not _if_ – the tide would undoubtedly turn. The raiders would slaughter the villagers where they stood – none of the defenders would survive unless they turned and fled, and they would not flee, knowing what they were defending. They would all be killed to the last man. And then the Magyars would descend on the village, loot and plunder, rape and murder, and finally burn the village to the ground.

Despite his preparations, despite the training he had put his neighbors through since their first warning of the impending raid, Vojnus’ village stood no chance. Not unless he intervened.

Vojnus closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. He put a hand to his head and caressed the black headband he had found buried in his field, only a few short months earlier. The blood-red ruby in its gold setting sparkled in the sunlight. Opening his eyes, he found that the small, slate-grey being that called itself a “Kwami” had moved from her perch on his shoulder to hover in front of his face, her leathery wings pumping gently. She stared sadly into his eyes. “Bella,” he whispered hoarsely, “is there hope?”

Bella spun in the air and examined the battlefield with a practiced eye. “Your enemies are led by an expert,” she replied, pointing to the Magyar chieftain. “Their arms show signs of wear from heavy fighting. You have favorable terrain: their horses will be hampered on the slope.” Her ears drooped and she dropped lower. “But I think you know the answer to your question already.”

“Can I–?”

Bella laughed, not unkindly, and shook her head. “You have practiced, but you have not mastered my miraculous yet, master,” she informed him. “My magic will render you invulnerable to your enemies’ weapons, and you may wreak a great slaughter among them, but there are too many to defeat in close quarters fighting. Oh, you may use the Kiss on your enemy, and it may corrupt him and his horde, but before he could succumb to its effects he would already have destroyed your people. Now, my previous holder, _she_ could easily have defeated this army by herself. But she had years of military training in the halls of Atlantis, as well as the experience of countless battles. You, sadly, have neither.”

Vojnus nodded, his frown deepening. “I was afraid you would say that.” He glanced to the man standing next to him. “Pri, are you ready?”

Prijat hefted his hoe with both hands and nodded curtly. “We are prepared,” he announced emphatically. “You have trained us well. We will defend our homes and our families to the end!”

Vojnus clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You shall,” he agreed somberly. He stared hard into his eyes, willing him to understand. “You have been a true friend. And I swear to you, your wife and son will live.” His shoulders slumped. “But the price for carrying out that promise will be great. Bella, Clouds of war.” Vojnus closed his eyes against the grey light which transformed him into Shishmish. He looked his friend in the eye for the last time and promised, “I will honor your sacrifice.” He bowed his head. “Kiss of Death.”

Prijat gasped in shock as the Kiss took hold. He dropped to one knee, clutching Shishmish’s arm for support. He looked up, and Shishmish could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes. But then the hurt turned to anger, the grip on his arm tightened, and Prijat rose to his feet. Shishmish sucked in a breath as he felt the anger coursing off of Prijat, strengthening him.

Prijat turned to face the rest of the villagers and lifted his hoe above his head. “Men of Dolina Dom!” he cried. “In front of us is a threat greater than any we could have imagined! A horrific storm of cultureless hordes from the center of Asia pours into our valley, seeking wanton destruction! Our homes are threatened! Our wives and children will be slaughtered and raped by savages! We must beat back these savages! We cannot allow these savage outsiders so much as a toehold in our land!”

As Prijat spoke, Shishmish stepped aside. Already he could feel the villagers’ rage building. He could see the anger in their faces, the fire in their eyes. As the Kiss corrupted his neighbors, he could feel himself growing stronger, even as their emotions were churned into a frenzy. But even so he knew it would not be enough.

Prijat pointed his hoe at the Magyar chieftain. “Destroy the godless barbarians!” he bellowed, and leapt down the hill, running full-tilt at the Magyar formation. The rest of the villagers followed him down the hill, yelling and whooping in their rage, waving their pitchforks and harrows in the air. Stones rained from the hilltop and rolled off the Magyars’ shields as the villagers threw with all their might.

Shishmish rested his hand on the pommel of his black sword and watched the battle unfold. Tin, who lived two doors down from him in the village, stopped at the top of the hill for a minute, drew back his bow, and fired an arrow at the Magyar chieftain. The arrow missed the chieftain, but struck the warrior behind him. Shishmish frowned. Last winter, Tin had almost singlehandedly fed the village with his hunting prowess; now he had missed his first shot. Shishmish was about to say something when Tin let out a bloodcurdling scream, threw aside his bow, and charged down the hill, a flaying knife in either hand.

The first rank of Magyar invaders fell into disarray under the sudden onslaught. The villagers were fighting surprisingly well, making good use of the skills that Shishmish had taught them. And yet, for every Magyar to fall, another one appeared. And once the shock of the blitz attack had worn off and the Magyar chieftain had regrouped his forces, the villagers began to fall, one after another. Niko the baker was beheaded by the Magyar chieftain, his head sailing across the field as his body was trampled by the chieftain’s horse. Josip, who owned the field next to Shishmish’s, was almost cut in half from his head to his stomach by a massive man holding a battleaxe. Prijat struck a Magyar’s horse with his hoe, and the horse reared, knocking him to the ground and bringing its hooves crashing down on him, caving in his chest. Shishmish closed his eyes, but could not close his ears to his friend’s agonized screams. Mercifully, one of the Magyars ended his suffering with a spear thrust through his throat, though Shishmish could still hear his death cry echoing in his mind. There was no doubt: the villagers were going to lose.

And yet, every Magyar they killed energized Shishmish. Every villager who sacrificed his life gave his own energy to Shishmish. And as the battle continued, Shishmish could feel the effects of the Kiss spreading through the Magyar host: their sense of loss, their anger, their desires, all were corrupted. Soon the villagers had all fallen to the Magyar’s superior numbers and weapons, and the surviving Magyars, now themselves being fueled by the same force that had impelled the villagers to throw their lives away, reformed behind their chieftain to charge up the hill.

Shishmish stared down at the blood-soaked field, strewn with the bodies of men who had taught him to farm and hunt, of boys whom he had watched grow up. And he stared at their murderers, the vicious savages who desired nothing more than to plunder his village and take his people away as slaves… or worse. He could feel the Magyars’ building rage, fueled by the Kiss.

And their rage, in turn, fueled Shishmish.

As the Magyars charged up the hill, weapons held high, Shishmish lifted his hands in front of him. The Magyar leader was less than fifteen meters away. Shishmish drew his left hand back in a fist and punched forward. Simultaneously he opened his fingers and bellowed, “Fulger negru!” Power surged within him. His vision flashed black the instant the power released. Bolts of black lightning arced from his fingertips and caught the Magyar chieftain in the chest, lifting him bodily from the horse and propelling him backward through the air. The chieftain, dead already, slammed into the rider behind him, and both fell to the ground and were trampled. A manic grin lighting up his face, Shishmish sidestepped the chieftain’s rider-less horse, continued the barrage of lightning from his left hand against a pair of riders on that side, and drew his sword in his right. He ducked a sword thrust from the closest warrior and immediately stabbed upward, plunging his sword into the man’s gut almost up to the hilt. He withdrew the sword in a spray of blood and entrails, and the man tumbled off his horse on the opposite side.

Shishmish looked around to find the Magyar raiders on all sides of him. The leading elements of their formation were already halfway down the slope toward the village behind him. They bellowed in rage under the influence of the Kiss.

Shishmish shuddered as the power coursed through him. “Placa decapita!” he shouted, making a slashing motion with his left hand. Flat whirling disks of black energy coursed from his hand in all directions as he spun, slicing through man and horse like a scythe cutting through grass, continuing on through the horde until their energy finally dissipated. Each disk only cost a small fraction of his stored-up energy, but nevertheless he could feel his strength flagging, even as the horde dwindled to nothing. All but two of the attackers fell to the ground, ripped asunder by the magical saws. And yet the two surviving Magyars had almost reached the village. Shishmish picked up a stone, tossed it in the air to test the weight, and hurled it at one Magyar with a cry of, “Impuls!” No sooner had he done so than he launched his sword, tip first, at the other Magyar. Both projectiles struck within seconds of each other, and the final two raiders fell to the ground dead.

Shishmish looked around him at the bodies of the slain. All the men of his village were gone. Tin would never again trade him fresh meat for wool. Andrej would never again seek his assistance in plowing their field. Ante’s song would never again bring joy to the village on a winter’s night. Shishmish would never hear Pri laugh at an inside joke again. All of them were dead, and Shishmish had killed them all, just as surely as the Magyars had.

And yet, all the Magyars were dead as well. Shishmish de-transformed and picked his way around the bodies of man and beast littering the hillside.

As he reached the outskirts of the village and saw the women and children gathered to meet him, looks of fear and confusion on their faces, Vojnus allowed himself a small smile. Yes, the price had been great, but his village would survive.


	8. Chapter 8

Rena Rouge groaned blearily as she returned to consciousness. Her head was splitting apart; it felt like she had been run through a meat grinder. She could feel the magic fabric of her miraculous suit still covering her, hear the dull beeping of her miraculous. At a guess she had about ten minutes left before she would de-transform. The voices that had been chattering in her ear all afternoon were gone. She tried to rub her forehead and ease her headache, but her arms couldn’t move. Why were her arms tied behind her–? With a start her mind caught up with what had happened, she came fully conscious, and her eyes shot wide open.

She was bound hand and foot in a length of cord, her arms pulled behind her back so tight the cords threatened to constrict her blood flow and wrench her shoulders out of joint. Looking around at her surroundings, she lay against the wall on the floor of the same conference room in Montparnasse Tower that she last remembered entering. The room was devoid of furniture except a single conference table. And a man with sandy brown hair and wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, leaning against the table.

The man raised an eyebrow when she looked up at him. “You’re awake,” he observed conversationally. “I wondered how long that would keep you out.” He looked down at his watch and clucked his tongue. “Huh. They told me it would knock you out longer than that.” He chuckled. “I guess that’s what we get for working with anti-miraculous ninja-monks with barely any real-world experience. So hard to find good help these days.”

Rena Rouge flexed her arms against the cords, willing them to break and release her, but they would not yield. She grunted in frustration and tried to turn her wrist around to sink her claws into the ropes, but her wrist would not turn far enough.

“They won’t break,” the man informed her, smirking in amusement. “That cord is specially chi-infused to negate miraculous strength and abilities. You’re not going anywhere. But _please_ keep trying to escape: it’s fun to watch you struggle.” He tossed an opaque glass ball in the air and caught it. “I suppose those Acolyte boys are good for _something_ anyways…”

She glared at him, doggedly struggling against the cords binding her. “Is that why you didn’t take away my miraculous while I was out?” she asked. This was the second time: she allowed Chloe to be captured on her watch; now she had been captured herself, and it was her own damn fault! If she didn’t find a way out of this, Lynchpin would add yet _another_ miraculous to his arsenal.

The man was nodding. “I suppose that’s part of it,” he agreed. “Of course, there’s also the bragging rights: I did something even the vaunted Night Bat couldn’t do. I beat you, and I don’t even have any of your magic jewelry. I can take down one of you _heroes_ , and I don’t need a metal suit or a miraculous to do it. I just need to outthink you.” He tapped the side of his head. “You know,” he added, holding the glass ball closer where she could see the cloudy texture swirling within it as though it were alive, “the Prior offered me an impenetrable field. I turned him down. I don’t want to keep you _out_ ; I want to let you in, but on _my_ terms.” He laughed maliciously and set the ball back down on the table. “That’s the trick, I guess. You gotta think like the enemy: know when he’s going to stick his head out of his hidey-hole and where so you can pop him. Know the enemy and you can know where his compound is weakest. Take you Heroes: you’re always running toward the danger; all I have to do is create ‘danger,’ and I can maneuver you wherever I want.” He scoffed and folded his arms. “You think your miraculous make you so special, better than the rest of us? I’ve outmaneuvered you at every turn. Now, let’s see who’s under the mask.”

Rena Rouge set her jaw and glared at him. The beeping of her miraculous was getting insistent. Just a couple minutes from now she was going to de-transform. “Alya Césaire” might not be as recognizable as Adrien or Marinette, but it would be too much to hope that the Lynchpin wouldn’t know her; he probably _subscribed_ to the Ladyblog! She had to figure out something. Based on the way he talked about Night Bat, he had to know something… “So when’s your boss coming to get me?”

“Who? You mean the Night Bat?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. He scoffed. “Haven’t told him yet. You’ve been so much fun to mess with the last few months, I figure I deserve to have some more fun with you first. Besides,” he added, grinning maliciously, “it’s not as if you’re going anywhere.”

Rena Rouge furrowed her brows. He’d been “messing” with her… What did that mean? “Are you planning to kill me?”

“Sweetheart, if I wanted you dead, you would’ve been dead months ago,” he told her, folding his arms. “I had you in my sights when I killed my old boss, but where’s the fun in taking out a target from fifty meters?” He waved one hand in the air dismissively. “Boring! Honestly, Lynchpin’s just been wasting my skills this whole time. I can hit a target from two kilometers through a hurricane – I did that once in Tunisia. To think, one of the best snipers in the service, and I’m babysitting bank heists.”

 _What an arrogant prick!_ Rena Rouge looked at him more carefully. Later end of military age, but without the standard military haircut. Unusual tattoo on his bicep, the bottom edge just peeking out below his rolled-up shirt sleeve. Worked for Levebvre… until his shot him. Obviously a sniper… and assumes he knows exactly what we’re thinking. _He probably thinks I’ll make the same mistake today that I made in that alley, the mistake that left Chloe vulnerable for his guys. He thinks he has us pegged, so he underestimates us. Good thing we_ learn _from our mistakes._

Rena Rouge reached down inside herself to find the spark of anger and frustration she had felt on waking up, fueled it and allowed it to grow. Chloe had suppressed her emotions so the Heroes couldn’t find her, and the _moment_ she stopped hiding her emotions nearly a week later, she broke out. Perhaps he wouldn’t expect their new contingency plan.

There was a quiet whooshing sound behind her back. Rena Rouge watched the man’s face carefully for a sign that he had heard it, but he didn’t react. Speaking loudly to cover the soft breath of air from the portal, she asked, “So were you watching a couple weeks ago when there was a fire in front of one of your boss’s warehouses?”

The man furrowed his brow in contemplation. “No,” he replied slowly. “I don’t – oh!” He snapped his fingers and laughed. “You mean that hedge maze? Yeah, now _that_ was a nice bit of misdirection there! I think it was the day after that when Lynchpin finally realized you were on to him. No, I wasn’t up here when that happened.”

“Do you know what happened then? What your _boss_ has been doing with that information?”

“What, Tyran-X’s wife?” he asked. Rena Rouge thought she saw a troubled look in his eyes, but it vanished as soon as she saw it. “Yeah, I know what happened. Let’s just say that the Lynchpin is very good at manipulating people – and sometimes they don’t even know it’s happening, or not until it’s too late to get out.” He scoffed. “He and Night Bat are a perfect match that way.”

“How is he manipulating you?” she asked as the Akuma absorbed into the back of her necklace and her miraculous stopped beeping.

“Rena? Are you okay?” Impératrice Pourpre’s voice came through her mind as clear as if they were standing right next to each other. “I gave you limited telepathy so we can communicate mentally. He shouldn’t have any idea what’s going on. What’s your situation?”

“ _Definitely could be better, girl,_ ” Rena Rouge thought, frustration bleeding through.

“Do you need a rescue? Ladybug’s team is busy, but Carapace is all set to pull you out now,” Impératrice Pourpre told her.

“ _Not at the moment. And if it comes to it, it might be best to have someone else pull me out. He has some sort of ball thing on him that will knock out miraculous users,_ ” she told Impératrice Pourpre. She heard the portal behind her back close with a soft whoosh.

The man narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, staring at her miraculous in confusion. He shook his head. “The Lynchpin doesn’t exactly need to manipulate me, darling,” he answered her previous question, shrugging. “Some people just do bad things.”

She gave him a calculating look. Something about that non-answer didn’t ring true. “So were you watching when your boss’s guys kidnapped my friend?”

“You mean that press conference?” he asked, smirking. “Yeah, that was me. It was laughably easy to manipulate your people. Give them a nice, big, shiny disaster, threaten plenty of innocents, and the Heroes will run off anywhere you want.” He laughed maliciously. “The boss was a little concerned when that fog rolled down the Seine – he was worried your friends would stick their noses where they didn’t belong. But it all worked out in the end. Better, in fact.”

Rena Rouge gritted her teeth as he spoke. “I take it by ‘better,’ you mean your boss found a psychopath who’s almost as crazy as himself?” she asked him rhetorically. “So was he already in league with the Dark Acolytes of the Mundane at that point?”

The man scoffed. “I’m just his trigger man; do you really think the Lynchpin would tell me who his international allies are? You don’t know your enemy that well if you think _that_!”

“I think you’re a little more than just a hired gun,” Rena Rouge commented, examining his face closely. “We both know how important a role you play all the way up here, watching over the Lynchpin’s operations.”

He smirked. “Not much gets past you, does it? A regular Clouseau?”

She gritted her teeth at the gibe. “So what does that make you? ‘Tunisiano’?”

He furrowed his brows in bewilderment. “Wait? Do I _look_ Tunisian?”

“You know? The rapper?” Rena Rouge groaned. “Sniper’s one of my boyfriend’s favorite indie rap groups.”

“ _Rap_? Please; that noise is _not_ music,” he retorted, making a face.

“I’ll add that to the list of things we have to agree to disagree on. So what do I call you?” she asked, frowning. “‘Sniper’?”

“Try ‘Le Tirreur,’” he replied, shrugging. “‘The Terror.’ That’s the name they gave me.”

She looked closer at him. Whatever had happened to him, at one time he must have been more than just a gun for hire.

“You’ve been trying to find Lynchpin for so long, and you never even knew I was watching, did you?” he went on, fixing her with an evaluating stare. “Not until today. So what tipped you off?”

“A lot of coincidences,” she admitted, gauging his face for a reaction, “all of which you could see from right here.”

He hummed contemplatively. “I suppose I should have looked for a new nest by now. That got me into trouble in Morocco, you know. I took out two targets without relocating, and they triangulated my position.” He shrugged. “Live and learn, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t explain this before, but “Tirreur” is a combination of the French words for “terror” (“terreur”) and “shooter” (“tireur”).


	9. Chapter 9

**Three Weeks Earlier**

Étienne sat alone at a table in the park under a shady tree directly north of Montparnasse Tower. The message he’d received that morning had only told him to bring a chess set to the park in front of the tower: Lynchpin’s new “team leader” would meet him there. Étienne had rolled his eyes. The Lynchpin wasn’t one for small talk, but Étienne was no fool: Lynchpin saw the strength of the Heroes of Paris, and he wanted a team of his own. He could see no other reason for Lynchpin to keep throwing money and resources into the “Mecha-Man Project,” after the first one had gotten himself captured by no less a Hero than the Owl! Even Lynchpin had acknowledged that to be an embarrassment; that particular “Mecha-Man” was still languishing in a jail cell.

So here he was, sitting in the park on a sunny day, a chessboard already set up in front of him waiting to meet Lynchpin’s newest recruit.

Normally he wouldn’t mind taking his lunch in this park and watching the other Montparnasse workers eat their own takeout lunches, but today he actually had a job to do. Lynchpin had a half-dozen operations going this week, and he was supposed to watch over all of them. They had captured a Hero, and Lynchpin was convinced that the Heroes of Paris were still in the dark about it, though Étienne had his doubts. Either way, that could change at the drop of a hat. This meeting had better be worth it.

“It looks like you are waiting for a new player,” a man observed, resting a hand on the back of the chair across from Étienne.

“Only if the player is ready to compete,” replied Étienne, watching the man closely.

“A challenging game is its own reward,” the man finished, pulling out the chair and sitting down. With a practiced eye, Étienne sized the new man up quickly. Just below average height, clean-shaven, dark hair mostly hidden by a light grey fedora pulled low to obscure his eyes, olive complexion, dressed in a nondescript grey suit to blend in with the professional crowd also congregating in the park. He wore an enigmatic expression; clearly he was sizing up Étienne at the same time. “Shall we play?” the man asked, gesturing to the board.

“I was hoping you didn’t make me drag this out here just for that ridiculous litany,” Étienne answered evenly. “Do you prefer white or black?”

“This is fine.” The man indicated the black pieces in front of him. “Sometimes I prefer the black: let the game come to you and take advantage of the other person’s mistakes.”

“Who says I plan on making any mistakes?” retorted Étienne, raising an eyebrow at him. He advanced his king’s pawn two spaces.

“Sooner or later, everyone makes mistakes.” He responded by advancing his own king’s pawn one space. “Everyone except me, that is.”

Étienne pushed his queen’s pawn forward one space. “You have a high opinion of your chess playing ability,” he commented. “For all you know I could be a grandmaster.”

At that the man laughed. He pushed his queen’s pawn up two spaces. “I have played chess against grandmasters,” he told him. “Even grandmasters make mistakes.”

“I see you favor the French Defense,” Étienne observed, deliberating slowly over his next move. He decided to push his king’s pawn forward another space.

The man shrugged noncommittally. “Seemed appropriate for the first game I’ve played in France in a while.” He advanced his queenside bishop’s pawn two spaces. “So far, nothing unexpected.”

“What should I call you?” asked Étienne, moving his knight to defend the pawns.

“I have been known by a lot of names,” the man replied, one corner of his lips curling. “When we’re working, you may as well call me ‘Night Bat.’ Otherwise… I think I like the name ‘Jacques’ for now.” There was a trace of humor in his eyes as he made his next move. “And you favor the name ‘Le Tirreur’ for operational purposes.” It was not a question.

Clearly this Night Bat had done his research. “Very well, ‘ _Jacques_ ,’” said Étienne dubiously, drawing the name out as he made his own move.

As the game progressed, Étienne observed “Jacques” as he pondered each move. He sacrificed his bishop effortlessly, only to immediately recoup the loss by taking one of Étienne’s rooks with his next move. Étienne’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he realized that “Jacques” was observing him just as much as he was observing “Jacques.”

“What’s the most memorable game of chess you ever played?” Jacques asked eventually as they were nearing the endgame.

“There was one time I was in Cambodia and my platoon was ambushed and captured by the warlord we were there to expel. He told us that he would let us live if one of us managed to beat him at chess. Anyone who lost would be shot on the spot, but as soon as someone won, the survivors would all be allowed to go free. The lieutenant went first and lost, followed by the corporal. While watching both of them fail, I figured out the warlord’s strategy. It was a near thing, but I just managed to pull off the win and saved the rest of the unit.” Étienne shrugged. “I didn’t have to pay for another drink the rest of that tour.”

“Not bad.” Jacques nodded appreciatively. “A churchman and I set up a regular game time in Seville… _years_ ago. He loved playing with variations on a d4 opening, establishing a dominant position as quickly as possible. No patience, that one had. Of course, I taught him to be _very_ patient – it was a lesson that became exceedingly useful a year or two later, once he was confirmed in his highest churchly position…” He trailed off, staring into the distance. As if remembering he was in the middle of a game, he broke out of his reverie and looked down at the board. A little over half the pieces were missing by now. He stroked his chin before claiming Étienne’s last pawn.

Without hesitating, Étienne responded by moving his bishop through the spot Jacques had just vacated. “Check.” He examined his opponent’s face suspiciously. That feint should never have worked on a player as experienced as Jacques claimed to be.

Jacques casually moved his king out of the way, setting up his remaining knight to defend against most of Étienne’s possible attacks. “I sometimes wish some of the mechanics from shogi had made their way into modern chess,” he commented, waving to the line of captured pieces alongside the board and giving Étienne a calculating look.

“Japanese chess?” Étienne asked, surprised. “I’ve never played.”

“I learned it on a trip to Japan some years ago,” Jacques explained. “It is quiet enjoyable. No position is ever truly secure, no piece is ever truly out of the game. When the opponent is most secure, a clever player can turn his greatest strength against him, manipulate him into what he thinks is a favorable position, only to turn the tables on him. When the enemy loses a piece, you deal him a double blow, you see: you take away a valuable resource from _him_ , and you then give yourself the option to put it into play on your own side, catching him completely off-guard.”

“Is that your plan for countering the Heroes of Paris?” asked Étienne. Despite himself, he was intrigued by Jacques. The Lynchpin certainly saw the big picture, but he had begun relying much more on Étienne to plan out the specific operations over the last month. Here, however, the Lynchpin may have found a strategist every bit Étienne’s equal – certainly better than Levebvre. For as talented as Levebvre had been at organizing men, he had never really seen the big picture. When Lynchpin had ordered his death, it hadn’t exactly come as a shock – or at least not to anyone other than Levebvre himself. Étienne looked down at the chessboard and frowned suspiciously, examining it from every possible angle. His next move was painfully obvious – so much so that it almost had to be a trap. And yet– “Checkmate.”

Jacques examined the board with some surprise. “Indeed, you appear to be correct,” he agreed with a nod. “You do seem to have defeated me this round. Perhaps I am still recovering after my brush with the Heroes the other day.” He shrugged, tipped his cap to Étienne, and stood up from the table. “No matter. I look forward to our next game, Tirreur.”

“Until then, Night Bat.” Étienne watched Jacques disappear into the crowd of professionals on their way back to their offices after the lunch break. A handful of workers Étienne recognized as working a floor below him blocked his view of Jacques for a moment, and when he looked back, Jacques was gone. As Étienne dumped the chess pieces back into his bag, followed by the board itself, he frowned. He had won a hard-fought game of chess, that much was certain. At the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that compared to his opponent, he had been playing nothing more than checkers.


	10. Chapter 10

Ladybug twisted around in midair, leaping away from the rockets landing all around her. Night Bat’s sword was no longer at her throat, but Bengalia still lay in the same position as when Ladybug had arrived, eyes still clenched tightly shut and fists opening and closing reflexively. A rocket fell straight towards her, but she refused to move. Still in midair, Ladybug threw her yo-yo, looped it around Bengalia’s waist, and yanked her off the ground, moments before the median turned into a shower of dirt. She caught Bengalia in her arms and dropped to the ground outside the blast radius, rolling to her knees and laying Bengalia down carefully. Ladybug jumped to her feet, standing protectively over Bengalia’s still-prone form, to look for the source of the rockets. Night Bat stood on the far side of the street, watching her calculatingly. She narrowed her eyes.

Before she could make a move, however, there was a whistling sound from above. Ladybug lifted her yo-yo to spin above her head a moment before yet another rocket detonated against the makeshift shield. Shrapnel expanded out from the impact above the plane of her yo-yo, shooting through parked cars and apartment windows. She breathed a sigh of relief; she and Bengalia were still unscathed. But Bengalia still seemed unaware of the world around her. Then the ground shifted beneath Ladybug’s feet. She dropped to one knee and looked up at the source of the shockwave.

Mecha-Man 2.0 had just landed in the middle of the street. A horn went off just before the car slammed into his side, and its front end crumpled under the impact. The driver bailed out and ran away in terror, blocking traffic behind him. Unaffected, Mecha-Man strode toward Ladybug, testing his mechanized fists. “Ready for round 2, Pest?” he taunted, grinning beneath the helmet which covered the top half of his face. “We didn’t get much of a chance to mix it up last time. This time?” His arm servo hummed softly. “I’m looking forward to squashing a bug!”

Ladybug glared at him and stepped forward, placing the still-prone Bengalia behind her – what could Night Bat have done to her!?! “Tough talk for someone who consistently loses to a bunch of teenage girls!” she retorted. “Of course, you accessorize more than Queen Bee – and your taste is terrible.” She made a face.

Mecha-Man bounded forward, jumped over Ladybug’s head, and aimed one of his arm cannons down at her. “I’m gonna squash you, and then I’m gonna mount your Tiger’s pelt on my wall!” A pulse of white energy shot at Ladybug, who deflected it with her yo-yo, released her shield, grabbed Bengalia with her yo-yo, and tugged her out of the way. An instant later, Mecha-Man landed exactly where Bengalia’s head had been.

 _I need to maneuver him away from Bengalia_. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the hairs on the back of her head stood up. She leaned forward, just before Night Bat’s sword sliced through the space where her neck had been. Ladybug dove forward, somersaulted, and sprang to her feet next to a tree. She felt more than she saw Mecha-Man’s fist sailing toward her; she threw her yo-yo, wrapped it around a street sign, and pulled herself toward it. Mecha-Man missed her and struck the tree, which splintered. Ladybug swung around the sign and released it, bringing her feet together to kick Mecha-Man, hard, in the shoulder. She sprang back off of him, flipped, and landed with her yo-yo already up. Mecha-Man fell over on his side and his helmet struck the pavement.

Ladybug didn’t have a chance to breath, however, as Night Bat was right there, slashing at her shoulder from above. She blocked the slash with her yo-yo, spun around, and aimed a high kick at his head. Night Bat, however, wasn’t there. He had stepped back to avoid the kick; as the rest of her body followed through on the kick, he punched her in the stomach so hard she gasped. Lightning-quick his sword was up. He flipped it around in his grip and brought it down in a stabbing move at her back. Seeing the blow coming, Ladybug spun her yo-yo behind her back in a shield, deflecting the sword blade so it missed her and slammed into the ground. She back-flipped away from him into the middle of the street, looking for distance and simultaneously drawing Night Bat away from Bengalia.

Mecha-Man had by this time regained his feet and charged her with a bellow. Her eyes widened as he punched the exact spot where she landed. No sooner had her toes touched the ground than she pirouetted around the punch, inside his guard. She wrapped her yo-yo around his arm and dragged him around her, pulling him off the ground. The moment his feet left the ground, she released him and sent him flying into the wall of the building beside them. Mecha-Man shook his head, set his feet under himself, and lunged at her, at the same time that Night Bat renewed his attack. Ladybug jumped backward, and Night Bat landed on top of Mecha-Man, driving him into the pavement and springboarding off of him. He dove at Ladybug, sword held in front of him. Ladybug sidestepped the sword, ducked under his slash, and grabbed his wrist, trying to force it back and break his grip.

Night Bat gave her a look. “Do you really think that will work on me?” he mocked. “Really, I expected a little… more… from you.” With his other hand he punched her twice in the face.

Her grip on his wrist broken, she stumbled backward and shook her head to chase away the stars. The fight had by now moved about half a block from where Bengalia still lay. Was that far enough for the others to get to her? If she called in Miss Pinky and Geber too soon, they could be spotted and not manage to escape. What if _they_ got hurt the same way Bengalia did? She could get her entire team knocked out! But there was nothing for it. “Miss Pinky, Geber, get her now!” she muttered under her breath, twisting into a cartwheel away from Bengalia and speaking while she faced away from Night Bat to hide her mouth.

Ladybug landed and looked back to find Mecha-Man back on his feet, his chin scratched up and streaked with blood, and racing down the street toward her. Night Bat was several paces ahead of him. Behind them, Bengalia was nowhere to be seen, though she caught a glimpse of orange disappearing down an alley near where she had been lying. Mecha-Man took aim and shot a bolt of energy at Ladybug, who spun her yo-yo as a shield and deflected the energy straight at Night Bat. Night Bat’s eyes flashed black as he absorbed the energy into his hand. A black seam opened in the street between shooting straight Night Bat toward Ladybug’s feet. She dove to one side a moment before the seam separated.

“Okay… _don’t_ do that next time,” she muttered. The attack had slowed Night Bat by a step. He and Mecha-Man were side-by-side as they reached her. Mecha-Man pulled back one hand and punched her in the face. Ladybug ducked and rolled forward, coming up between them. Night Bat slashed at her low with his sword, but she sidestepped and he instead struck one of the hydraulics on Mecha-Man’s leg.

“Boss!” Mecha-Man exclaimed as the damaged leg collapsed under him. He dropped to one knee and extended an arm attachment to brace himself on the ground.

Night Bat turned away from him, scoffing dismissively, to press the attack against Ladybug. Ladybug glared at Night Bat, who stalked toward her predatorily. His eyes darted to something behind her and then back to her. That and a light footfall was all the warning she received.

Ladybug pushed off the ground into a back-flip without a second to spare. At the peak of her flip, she looked down to see a pair of balls attached to a rope spin through the space where her feet would have been. The bolas skipped across the pavement and wrapped around Night Bat’s legs as Ladybug landed. Night Bat fell to the ground with an enraged snarl as Ladybug turned to confront the new threat. A man in red robes, who looked vaguely familiar, swung a quarterstaff at her head. Ladybug ducked the quarterstaff and dodged away from his follow-up kick.

“Prior, you moron!” Night Bat was shouting behind her. “Not _me_ , you idiot!”

The man in red – the Prior – shrugged. “We may be allies of convenience,” he commented, turning away from him to face Ladybug. “That doesn’t make you less a miraculous user.”

“Let me guess,” Ladybug said, throwing her yo-yo to loop around his legs and arching an eyebrow. “Dark Acolyte?”

The Prior jumped over the yo-yo and batted it aside with his staff before planting his staff and vaulting into a flip. “Obviously,” he replied on landing. “And you would be yet another miraculous abuser in a city infested with them.” He charged forward, swung his staff from high, then cut back to sweep her legs out from under her when she raised her yo-yo/shield to counter. She hit the ground on her back, and he stood over her, the tip of his staff centimeters from her face. “I’m unimpressed.”

Ladybug glared up at him past the staff. Now she was outnumbered three-to-one! Without breaking eye contact she looped her yo-yo around the leg closest to her and pulled him off-balance. He stumbled backwards but recovered quickly. By the time he had caught himself, she had already kipped to her feet and had her yo-yo set. A glance behind her showed that Mecha-Man was delicately attempting to use one arm cannon to remove the bolas from around Night Bat’s legs. And he was trying to keep the damaged leg rigidly straight.

Seeing the way he stood over Night Bat, the wheels in Ladybug’s head started turning. She held her arms up on either side of her head to block a series of punches from the Prior, jumped back to avoid a kick, and flipped backward over a parked car. With enough time to work, she threw her yo-yo at Mecha-Man’s leg, hoping to trip him up and drop him on top of Night Bat.

The tornado that caught her yo-yo before it got to him and hurled her thirty meters into the sky came completely out of nowhere.

Ladybug screamed in surprise as she found herself flying higher than the surrounding buildings. Looking down she saw Tyran-X at the far end of the block, Cat Noir in hot pursuit and the Owl trailing several blocks behind them. Night Bat was still on the ground with Mecha-Man standing over him. The Prior huddled behind the same parked car where she had been. As abruptly as the tornado began, it disappeared. Ladybug experienced a moment of weightlessness before gravity caught up to her and she fell. There was nothing for her to catch on to, nothing to cushion her fall, nothing to keep her from going splat, nothing–

“Ladybug!” a familiar voice shouted. She forced her breathing to slow down and allowed her partner to do his job. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cat Noir put on a burst of speed, race past Tyran-X, set his staff, and jump. He caught her about five meters from the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly as he flexed his knees to cushion their landing. For the first time since she’s seen Bengalia with Night Bat’s sword at her throat, Ladybug allowed herself a moment to relax. She looked past Cat Noir’s shoulder to see Night Bat and Mecha-Man standing on that side of them.

Then something stuck to her arm. She tried to release Cat Noir’s neck, but her arms wouldn’t move. She could feel Cat Noir’s muscles quivering as he tried to put her down, but he couldn’t move.

Night Bat smirked. “Freeze.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Mecha-Man mentioned in chapter 9 appeared in “A Jagged Ride with the Owl,” where the Owl and Jagged Stone managed to capture him. This Mecha-Man first met Ladybug in “Girls’ Day Out,” and then showed up again in “Chloe’s Jagged Ride.” The Prior first appeared at a distance in “Girls’ Day Out.” His group, the Dark Acolytes of the Mundane, was the primary antagonist in “A Miraculous Adventure in America.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ladybug’s eyes darted up and down the street before returning to glare at Night Bat, the only movement available to her. She could feel tension radiating from Cat Noir – the only small comfort in their situation was that at least they were together. If she had to pick a position in which to be stuck, being held by Cat Noir was close to the top of the list.

Being frozen in his arms while surrounded by enemies, on the other hand? That was definitely _not_ the top of the list.

What even happened for them to be frozen in place in this way? Cat Noir had caught her midair, and the next thing she knew, something had touched her and now she couldn’t move.

“Tyran-X is in front of us with some dude in red robes,” Cat Noir whispered quietly, so quiet she almost had to strain to hear it.

“Night Bat called him ‘Prior,’” Ladybug explained, equally quietly. She found even moving her lips to be a struggle. “He’s a Dark Acolyte. Night Bat and Mecha-Man are standing behind us.”

“Do you have a plan, Milady?”

Night Bat stepped forward leaned down, his face centimeters from Ladybug’s. Ladybug glared at him defiantly. “You know, I love compassion,” Night Bat commented smugly. “It’s such an easy weakness to exploit. Your friend was in trouble, and you just _had_ to save her from me. You put a queen in danger to save a pawn, and now I’ve captured both… and you didn’t save the pawn.” He shook his head. “Pawns are meant to be sacrificed, children.”

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him.

Night Bat looked away from her dismissively, then he started. Ladybug’s eyes followed the direction he was looking: back to where the fight had begun, where Bengalia had been at the first. Night Bat frowned and put a hand to his ear. “Tirreur, do you have a position for the other Heroes? Bengalia was right here, but she disappeared sometime in the last few minutes.”

He was silent for a minute, listening. Ladybug watched him pace in agitation. Who was this “Tirreur” guy? She really hoped he wouldn’t be able to give Night Bat her teammates’ location. He always seemed to be two moves ahead of them. If he revealed her teammates positions to Night Bat, they would be helpless against Night Bat and his team! Miss Pinky and Geber were enthusiastic, and the Owl had experience, but they would be vastly outmatched against Night Bat – she and Ryoku together hadn’t beaten him; how could her newest teammates survive!?! And hampered by whatever happened to Bengalia–

“ _What_???” Night Bat burst out. “You let them get away! You have _one_ job: watch the heroes! What could possibly have been more important than that!?!” He listened for a response. “Wait, you were found? Which hero?”

Ladybug narrowed her eyes. This was not how the plan was supposed to go.

“Rena Rouge? The fox? You’ve still got her?” Night Bat’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Ladybug’s heart sank. Not Alya now too… “Pegasus? Are you there?” she whispered, hoping her communicator would pick it up.

“I am here, Ladybug,” Pegasus replied quickly. “Do you need assistance?”

“Did you know that Rena Rouge was captured? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“You have _really_ not been paying any attention to the communications lately, have you?” observed Pegasus, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I have been attempting to apprise you of that very fact for the last thirty minutes!”

Night Bat glared into the distance angrily. “And you’re just telling me this _now_?” He shook his head and rubbed his forehead. “We _will_ discuss this further. Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

Ladybug watched in surprise and fear as Night Bat stalked off. She could feel her pulse racing. What was he planning to do now? He had her and Cat Noir at his mercy, and apparently another of his teammates had captured Rena Rouge! This was shaping up to be an even worse disaster than when they abducted Chloe and tortured her for a week! And this time, Ladybug had no one to blame but herself. Yes, she had help planning the operation, but she approved it. She decided not to call in backup until it was too late. The blame stopped with her! What if she had now gotten her entire team captured?

Night Bat muttered something under his breath and made a gesture like he was spinning a hoop around his waist. His lower body was ringed by black smoke which spun around his body in a black tornado and lifted him off the ground. Without turning around he called, “You three watch our guests. I need to have _words_ with Le Tirreur.” And with that he flew away, carried through the air atop a swirling pillar of cloud.

“Ladybug?” Cat Noir muttered softly, a nervous edge to his voice. “Do we have a plan yet?”

“I–”

“Do not be alarmed, Ladybug,” Pegasus informed her calmly over the communicator. “Just… watch.”

Ladybug tried to move her lips to frown, but couldn’t. What were they planning? Was Pegasus going to make the “Emergency” call and bring in their backup team? For as grateful as she was to know they were on top of the situation, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to reveal _that_ much to Night Bat and his team, even if it might give them a chance to capture three of Night Bat’s minions.

“Um, Ladybug?” Cat Noir began hesitantly. “Did you order the _shrub_ -bening?”

“ _What_?”

“There’s a massive hedgerow growing across the road a couple blocks down this way,” he explained. “You didn’t have anything to do with that?”

“No,” whispered Ladybug, “I have no idea what’s going on.”

The Prior shouted, “Mecha-Man, keep an eye on these two. The chi-putty will hold them. Tyran-X?”

Footsteps behind Ladybug’s back indicated that the two men had left. Mecha-Man stiffly stepped toward her without bending his damaged leg.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now, Bug,” Mecha-Man observed, baring his teeth. “How appropriate: a _bug_ caught in a trap!”

Ladybug tried to clench her fist, but her fingers wouldn’t move. “Do your worst,” she ground out, putting as much anger into her eyes and voice as she could, the only resistance available to her.

“Oh, I intend to,” he assured her, cocking his arm back. Ladybug would have flinched away from the blow if she could move. There was a sudden sound like metal rending, and fluid spurted out of three gashes in the hydraulic on his undamaged leg. “What–?” His eyes shot wide open as both his legs collapsed and he fell to the ground. His helmet made a dull thud as the back of his head slammed into the pavement.

Bengalia appeared out of thin air standing right next to him, her claws still extended. Her eyes held a wild look, but she gritted her teeth and retracted her claws. “Someone order a rescue?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Ladybug. She took a step in the direction the Prior and Tyran-X had gone, taking her out of Ladybug’s field of vision.

Ladybug let out a sigh as Geber appeared from the opposite direction. He reached for a spot on Ladybug’s arm, but his eyes suddenly grew wide and his gaze darted from Ladybug’s face to her arm to Cat Noir and then back to Ladybug. “Owl!” he called, stepping back and planting his spur on the ground.

There was a pressure on Ladybug’s arm and she could just see the Owl’s familiar black glove out of the corner of her eye. The pressure suddenly disappeared, and Ladybug turned her head to see the Owl holding a black, tarlike object in his hand. Ladybug stretched her shoulders, and Cat Noir released her legs to set her back on her feet.

“You know, Milady,” he commented, a twinkle in his eye, “it’s not that I minded holding you in the exact same position for half of forever, but I’ve had a serious itch right behind my ear pretty much since I caught you.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “Focus, Kitty.” Nevertheless, she reached behind his artificial ear and scratched affectionately. Glancing around, she could see Geber and Bengalia both staring at them in amusement. The Owl poked at the tarlike object, eyeing it with some trepidation, before placing it in one of the empty compartments on his utility belt. “Where’s Miss Pinky?” Ladybug asked.

“Right here!” a breathless voice called halfway down the street. Ladybug turned to find the girl in question racing toward them, the Prior and Tyran-X hot on her heels.

Ladybug dropped into a fighting stance and twirled her yo-yo to one side. Cat Noir took a half-step ahead of her and held his staff at an angle in front of himself. Ladybug set her jaw and watched the villains approach. “Ready, guys?” she called, checking her companions in her peripheral vision.

The Prior, however, stopped about six meters away from them and held out his quarterstaff to block Tyran-X. He narrowed his eyes at the heroes, frowned, and said, “There is no benefit in continuing this fight.” He nodded to Tyran-X. He tossed his lasso past the heroes, looped it around Mecha-Man’s leg, and tugged. The Prior pulled a small sphere out of the sleeve of his robe and threw it on the ground. The smoke bomb burst, filling the street with red smoke and hiding the three villains from view. Cat Noir spun his staff like a propeller to disperse the smoke, but by the time it was gone, all three of them had vanished.

“Well that was a neat trick,” Ladybug grumbled.

Cat Noir grinned and wagged his eyebrows at her. “You know what our friends pulled on them? An am- _bush_!”

Ladybug shook her head in exasperation. “You _would_ come up with something so unbe- _leaf_ -able!” She sobered quickly as she remembered what Night Bat had said. She put a hand to her communicator. “Pegasus, what’s going on with Rena Rouge?”


	12. Chapter 12

“So what’s your plan for me?” asked Rena Rouge, straining at the ropes binding her arms behind her back. “Are you planning to just keep me here and talk my ear off until the sun explodes, or what?”

Le Tirreur, who still hadn’t moved from his position leaning against the table, shrugged. “I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead,” he admitted. “I figured I would take a couple pictures to prove my ‘fishing story,’ and then throw you back. A little too small to keep.” He held her gaze for a beat before chuckling. “And if you believe _that_ , I’ve got some oceanfront property in Paris to sell you!”

Rena Rouge stared at him deadpan. “You’re hilarious,” she told him, pursing her lips. “Do you moonlight as a comedian for children’s birthday parties?”

He scoffed. “Not much chance for me to do that when you hero types keep me busy all the time,” he commented. “I mean, the Lynchpin has so much going on all the time, and he’s always so terrified you people will find out and try to stop him. ‘Tirreur, watch this warehouse for me.’ ‘Tirreur, I need you to abduct a hero.’ ‘Tirreur, there’s something coming in on the river tonight.’” He made a face. “You heroes really need to get a life.”

Rena Rouge laughed. “I’ve been thinking the same thing about you. I mean, my boyfriend and I can’t even go out for dinner without something exploding anymore!” She stopped struggling with the rope binding her and glared at him. “Look, can we just skip to the part where you either kill me or let me go?” she asked, giving him an unimpressed look. “I mean, as much fun as this has been, I _am_ starting to get tired of listening to the sound of your voice.”

“That almost hurts, sweetheart.” He looked at his watch and frowned. “You know, I thought you should have de-transforms before now. Guess our intel is wrong… _again_.” He pushed himself off the table and strode toward her. He pulled a knife from one pocket and flicked it open. “I guess your miraculous _isn’t_ going to give out, is it?” He shrugged. “Option B, then.”

“ _Sabrina? You’re still there, right, girl?_ ” Rena Rouge thought, her eyes widening in fear as she watched the knife near her throat.

“I’m still here, girl,” Impératrice Pourpre assured her through the Akuma connection. The soothing lilt to her voice eased some of the tension Rena Rouge felt. “We’re all set on our end. We’ll have you out of there the moment you’re ready. Just give us the signal.”

“ _I think_ –” Rena Rouge’s train of thought was cut off abruptly when Le Tirreur straightened up suddenly and put a hand to his ear. She frowned at the indecipherable expression on his face.

“No, sorry, Night Bat. I wasn’t watching.” Le Tirreur smirked. “I figured you could handle it.”

What was going on with the rest of the Heroes? Rena Rouge had been entirely out of the loop since she had left their on-site control room, fallen into this ridiculous trap, and lost her communicator earpiece.

“ _Sabrina, are the others okay?_ ” Rena Rouge couldn’t keep the worry out of her thoughts that her predicament could mean trouble for her friends. If her mistake–

“They ran into some trouble,” Impératrice Pourpre replied, “but we have everything under control. Trust your team, girl. We can rescue you _and_ deal with Night Bat’s Goon Patrol at the same time.”

Rena Rouge forced herself to control her breathing and focus on the task at hand. Sabrina was right; Marinette was right; _everyone_ was right: she had to trust her team.

“One of the Heroes found me,” Le Tirreur was explaining. “I’ve been… entertaining her.”

Rena Rouge scoffed. “You call _this_ ‘entertaining me’?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. “Sorry I missed the memo. Forget _terreur_ ; you’re just _terrible_ at this intimidation thing! If you’re putting in a food order, I’ll take some _ham_ to go with that _bologna_!”

He gave her a look. “Rena Rouge… Yeah, she’s right here.” He was quiet for a minute, listening for whatever Night Bat was saying. He shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is.” His eyes narrowed in concern, and Rena Rouge caught them darting over to look out the window toward a spot east of the victory garden site. “Well,” Le Tirreur said at last, giving her a calculating look, “looks like my _boss_ is a little ticked off at the moment.”

“I would say that’s putting it mildly, buddy,” Rena Rouge agreed sarcastically, nodding toward the window. “Here’s Battie…” she added in a singsong voice.

Le Tirreur spun around lightning-quick to peer out the window. A black funnel cloud rose up outside the window, with a man who could only be Night Bat emerging from the eye of the storm, arms spread and cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a great bat. The look on his face was one of unbridled rage. The black sword in his hand flashed as he sliced through the glass window as if it were made of tissue paper. His eyes turned black for an instant, he punched the window, and it shattered inward. Glass crunched under his feet as he stepped into the room, and the swirling cloud dissipated behind him.

“ _Sabrina… Night Bat’s here._ ” Rena Rouge swallowed hard, staring up wide-eyed at the monster looming in front of her. Before now she’d only heard stories of the miraculous-fueled pseudo-vampire who had blazed a path of death, destruction, and corruption across centuries and continents. She had scoffed at the idea – surely Hato Gozen was making up at least _some_ of her stories of plagues, wars, and Inquisitions caused by a single Kiss, right? Seeing him in the flesh – in all his power – she realized Hazo Gozen had, if possible, _under_ sold the menace of this Night Bat…

Night Bat, however, seemed uninterested in her; he barely spared her a glance, hogtied as she was, and instead fixed his piercing eyes on Le Tirreur. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he demanded, glaring at the man in question.

“You mean other than singlehandedly capture one of the Heroes of Paris?” retorted Le Tirreur, meeting Night Bat’s gaze without wavering. “Because I’d say that’s a victory.”

“You should have told me you’d captured her,” Night Bat told him, pointing at her angrily with his sword. “You should have kept your eyes on the plan. If you’d done your _job_ , we would have had _two_ of the Heroes at once! Do you have any idea how many possible moves that would have opened up for us?”

“We’ve still got Rena Rouge right here,” Le Tirreur replied with a shrug. “She’s not going anywhere any time soon.”

“That’s your problem.” Night Bat shook his head in frustration. “You think too _small_. You have your victory here, but what have you really won? So far, nothing. This is simply one move in the game; it is _not_ a checkmate!” He let out a grunt. “Even if you did cost us the Tiger, at least I captured the Ladybug and Cat – the only miraculous that matters – anyways,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “ _Despite_ your mistake.”

Rena Rouge’s eyes bugged out. They captured Ladybug and Cat Noir? That – compounded with her own capture – would be an utter disaster! It was bad enough when Lynchpin had _one_ hero; what would happen if he got his hands on three of them, _and_ their miraculous? What would he or Night Bat do with the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous together? She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate just _thinking_ about it…

“Relax,” Impératrice Pourpre whispered soothingly in her head. “We have everything under control. They’re fine.”

Even as Rena Rouge forced herself to breathe normally, Le Tirreur grabbed his spotter’s scope off the conference table, stepped over to the shattered window, and searched the city. “I don’t see the Heroes anywhere,” he finally announced. “I see a lot of damage near your last location, but the Heroes are nowhere.”

“ _What???_ ” demanded Night Bat, outraged. “Those morons lost my prize!” he grumbled. He turned to Rena Rouge. “Well, perhaps this isn’t a _total_ loss. At least we’ve still got _one_ of you Heroes…” He walked toward her, eyes alight with malice.

Rena Rouge couldn’t help the fear she felt as Night Bat leaned over her. “ _Guys…_ ”

Night Bat’s face was so close she could almost smell his breath. “Kiss of–” His eyes widened and he froze in his tracks.

Something _whooshed_ behind Rena Rouge’s back, an instant before her favorite voice in the world shouted, “Shell-ter!” Her vision turned green as the force field dropped down in the minute space between her face and Night Bat’s and slid outward across the floor, pushing Night Bat away from her. He shouted in frustration as the Shell-ter bowled him over to the ground. Yellow arms grabbed Rena Rouge from behind and pulled her through the portal.

“Tirreur!” bellowed Night Bat, pushing himself to his feet and turning to glare at the other man.

The last thing Rena Rouge saw before the portal closed was Night Bat raising his sword and holding his hand out, fingers crackling with electricity. Le Tirreur’s eyes narrowed. He pulled something out of his pocket and threw it at Night Bat before jumping backward through the shattered window.


	13. Chapter 13

“We got her back.”

Ladybug let out a sigh in relief and slumped into Cat Noir. He wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright and helped her into a nearby alley. The rest of the Heroes followed them, eyes darting up and down the street, on the lookout for another trap. Dimly Ladybug recognized Cat Noir taking charge, telling Geber and the Owl to stay on one end of the alley and sending Miss Pinky to scout the other end. Bengalia, still shaky and with a haunted look in her eyes, slid down the wall and hugged her legs, burying her face in her arms. Ladybug didn’t have the energy to comfort her; her own legs felt weak with the release of what felt like months of stress and fear, and she leaned against one of the walls to de-transform.

“So, was that the way you expected things to go, Bug?” Cat Noir asked, giving her a look of concern.

“Not quite,” she admitted, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m sorry we didn’t manage to get back the Dinosaur Miraculous,” he whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

“I am, too.” Marinette sighed. She glanced down at Tikki, who nodded, and then transformed. “Miraculous Ladybug,” she whispered, halfheartedly tossing her yo-yo in the air. The magic swirled around her and she doubled over, gasping. Straightening up, she blinked several times in surprise. The cold fear that had closing around her chest over the last hour without her ever realizing it was there had suddenly disappeared entirely. “What…”

“Yaaaaaah!” Bengalia sprang to her feet, arms spread apart and coiled to spring, with a shout of surprise. Her claws extended and her eyes darted up and down the alley wildly. Cat Noir put a hand on her shoulder before immediately leaping away from her wild swing and bringing his staff up in a defensive position automatically. “Woo!” Bengalia breathed, turning her head either direction and taking in a shuddering breath, blinking hard. “That was… that was… _what_ was that?” She gave Ladybug a look of utter bewilderment

Ladybug smacked her forehead in realization. “Night Bat Kissed you, didn’t he?”

“What? Ew…” Bengalia stuck her tongue out. “He just leaned over me, put a hand on my forehead, and said, ‘Kiss of’– Ohhhh, _that_ ’s what you meant. Then yeah.”

Ladybug smiled in relief, waved the rest of the team over, and held her fist out for them to pound. “Good job, guys! I think we’re done for today.” Seeing that both Miss Pinky’s and Bengalia’s miraculous were beeping, she ordered them, “Be careful on the way home.” With that said, she threw out her yo-yo, swung up to the roof, and raced across town in the direction of the Mansion with Cat Noir close behind her. For the first time since Miss Pinky’s injury, Ladybug felt the tension in her chest truly gone. They hadn’t rescued a miraculous from Lynchpin, but they had kept their team safe. They hadn’t gained anything major, but now they knew a little more about their enemies. What was the saying? “Know thy enemy.”

She and Cat Noir dropped into an alley across from the Mansion, de-transformed, and pushed through the crowd surrounding the front gate. The moment the crowd of reporters realized who they were, they all started shouting questions at once. Marinette looked at Adrien and raised an eyebrow fractionally. He winked and curled one corner of his lip into a tiny smile. Marinette continued up the driveway to the front doors while Adrien turned back and put a hand up to request silence before answering some of the reporters’ questions.

The Mansion was quiet and her footsteps echoed in the large space once she’d shut the door behind her, a nice change from the frenetic activity of the afternoon. Mira was reading a book behind the security desk they’d never removed from the entryway. Paxx, her sky-blue Kwami with dark red wings, fluttered up from behind the desk when Marinette approached and flew over to give Tikki a hug. Mira gave Marinette a small smile and nodded toward the office. Marinette thanked her before she quickly made her way down to Headquarters. The butterfly garden was entirely deserted; Max must already have sent their backup team home. The conference room door at the far end of the butterfly garden was ajar, so she headed in there. The others were waiting for her around the conference table: Max, Sabrina, Chloe, Nino, and– “Alya!” Marinette cried, rushing up to her best friend and throwing her arms around her neck. “You have no idea what a shock that was! I was worried.”

“I know the feeling,” Alya laughed weakly, releasing her and collapsing heavily into her chair next to Nino, who wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“Well, if you had paid attention to the communications–” Max began, raising an eyebrow at Marinette.

“We’re all just relieved that everyone made it out safely,” Sabrina interrupted, squeezing Max’s hand and giving him a look. “Even if we achieved nothing else, _that_ , at least, we should be grateful for.”

“I am sorry for running off and getting caught,” Alya told them, looking around at the others. “I def should’ve let you know what I was planning.”

Marinette shrugged. “At least now we know the ‘contact Sabrina’ plan works,” she replied with a relieved smile.

“We actually know a little more than that,” announced Alya, sitting up straight and grinning confidently. “The guy I found, ‘Le Tirreur,’ I’m pretty sure he gave me everything I need to locate him – but I don’t really think we need to worry about him too much at the moment. He probably won’t be working with Night Bat and Lynchpin anymore, not after what I saw when you pulled me out.”

“Really?” Marinette raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“And from what he said, _he_ ’s the one who’s been watching us all this time, keeping us on our toes so we couldn’t stop more of Lynchpin’s operations,” Alya added. “So that’s another bonus. I can’t imagine Lynchpin has another sniper with this particular skill set waiting in the wings, so we might have a chance here until he regroups. Le Tirreur’s the one who got you captured, Chloe.”

“Then good riddance!” Chloe folded her arms and glowered. “I’d love to introduce him to my _new_ yo-yo…” She flicked it out over the table and caught it again for emphasis.

“He also let slip that Lynchpin had another operation that day and that it had to do with the river,” Alya informed them. “He was worried that Viperion and Ryoku would uncover it or interfere with it, but they focused in on Night Bat instead.”

Marinette frowned. “The river, you say? The Seine keeps coming up. Max, can we see the map?” Max nodded to Turing, who activated the holo-projector on the table and displayed a map of Paris. “Highlight all of Lynchpin’s warehouses,” she instructed. “A lot of them have docks.”

“I thought he might be doing something with the river before,” Alya pointed out. “It’s not a lot to go on.”

“Not by itself,” agreed Marinette, “but we didn’t have a timeframe then.” She turned to Max. “Check shipping logs at all the ports for the week before the press conference. It sounds like Lynchpin had a shipment come in around then, and he brought it to Paris at the same time we were holding the press conference.”

Max nodded and stood. “If it is traceable, I shall uncover it.”

“Well, as exciting as that sounds,” Chloe observed after he had left the room, arching an eyebrow and standing up from the table, “I didn’t get to _punch_ anyone today, so I think I’ll see about fixing that!”

“Should we be keeping an eye on that girl?” Marinette wondered after Chloe had followed Max out of the room.

Sabrina giggled. “She’s fine. Earlier she said she might see if Adrien is up for video games this evening.”

“I’m always down for that,” Nino exclaimed. He glanced down at Alya with some concern, but she gave him an encouraging smile, and he was out the door in seconds. “We’ll order pizza!” he called behind him.

Marinette glanced down at the table to see Sabrina’s half-full cup of coffee. “How is your head?” she asked.

Sabrina shrugged. “It’s really not too bad,” she replied. “Actually, since we found Chloe I hardly get the headaches anymore. All the ‘practice’ made a difference, I guess.” She stood up and collected her mug. “I’m going to see how Max is doing with his new project,” she announced, leaving Marinette and Alya alone.

Marinette took a closer look at Alya’s face. Though she was smiling, she could still see the strain around her eyes. And yet… she looked worlds better than a week ago. Marinette nodded toward the door, and Alya followed her across the garden to her alcove on the far side of the cave. Marinette looked at the tangled spider-web of strings and pictures and smiled. It had seemed almost impossible a week ago, despite Alya’s insistence that she was doing fine. Now? Maybe this harbor connection would unearth something, and maybe it wouldn’t. But at least it gave them hope. And she had her best friend back.

Alya shook her head ruefully. “I stared at this wall for almost a two weeks straight, and I came up with nothing,” she confessed. “You look into this thing for five minutes and come up with a plan to get us somewhere.” She looked up at Marinette and gave her a small smile. “I know I’ve said this a dozen times already, but I’m sorry for not bringing this to you sooner, girl!”

Marinette hugged her. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “We’re a team: we work best together.” She smiled. “Watching Night Bat with his so-called ‘teammates’ today, I realized something important. That’s what sets us apart from him: we work together, and we actually care about each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The follow-up to this story is "Acolytes of the Mundane," a two-part story in "The Life and Times of the Heroes of Paris," the first part of which will be published later today.
> 
> Sabrina getting tension headaches from using her miraculous to actively-scan emotions was a major part of “The Queen is Dead,” but this is the first time she’s done it since then in one of my stories – at least to that degree or for that extended period of time.
> 
> This has come up before and I explained it in part elsewhere, but it did play a role in this story so it bears further explanation. Unlike in “Battle of the Miraculous,” I decided to completely change how the “de-transform timer” mechanics work. Rather than a switch flipping when a user is/becomes an adult, I’m going with a sliding scale, that as the user gains experience and adjusts to the miraculous, the timer will lengthen until it disappears. Likewise, eventually a user will gain the ability to use their power more frequently without recharging. In the “Mind Games”-verse, Adrien and Marinette don’t de-transform, but they do need to recharge between power uses (as Ladybug does in this chapter). Night Bat has no timers or anything; he can use his Kiss of Death as often as he likes. Rena Rouge and Carapace have had their miraculous long enough that they can stay transformed for 30 minutes or so after the end of their abilities.
> 
> Age is a factor in this, in that the older someone is when they first receive their miraculous, the less time it takes to adjust. So if a four-year-old received a miraculous, it would take a decade or more to adjust; for Luka, who is 19 at this point and received his miraculous the first time at 17, he is at least as far along as Alya and Nino (who’ve had their miraculous longer), and his de-transform timer is closer to an hour now. At the same time, the younger the person is on receiving the miraculous, the younger they are when they unlock more of their abilities, and the further they can thus progress. So it would take the four-year-old a longer period of time than Luka, but when the four-year-old was 17, she would be much more advanced than Luka who is only touching a miraculous for the first time.
> 
> This means that (at least in my universe) Fu isn’t such a foo-l for handing the miraculous to 14-year-olds instead of cutting to the chase and finding a couple adults who could curb-stomp Hawk Moth in about five minutes!


End file.
